


Homecoming

by Lackingspace



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Choking, Come Eating, Come Swallowing, Come play, Creampie, Cumplay, Dannys mouth is dirty, Degradation, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, F/M, Fingering, Humiliation, Kinda Blood Play, Knifeplay, Mask Stays On, Oral Sex, Painplay, Rough Oral Sex, Slasher, Suggestive Themes, Threats of Violence, Vaginal Sex, danny is his own tag, disgusting, dubcon, gloves stay on, pain play, thigh riding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:26:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 38,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23269174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lackingspace/pseuds/Lackingspace
Summary: Finding out you’re in a dimension controlled by some otherworldly entity that just wants an eternal game of cat and mouse? Easy. It’s like a walk in the park. You’re prepared for it. What you weren’t ready for was the friendly local stalker, The Ghostface. Not his personality. Not his playful threatening manner. And most definitely not the way he could get under your skin in .5 seconds. What a great time to be undying.
Relationships: Danny "Jed Olsen" Johnson | The Ghost Face/Reader, Danny "Jed Olsen" Johnson | The Ghost Face/You
Comments: 68
Kudos: 324





	1. Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> First fic in a while, hope you like it! I meant to just do something small and then I got an idea and my hand slipped into 5k and I guess I'm just trapped now :)

Grogginess tickled your senses. It was that familiar sensation that came with waking up after too short of sleep or a night spent far too long drinking. Either way, it was never a good time.

With a strained groan, you tried to move, but body aches demand you start slower. The sudden rush of a massive headache coming on all at once had you groaning out. It seemed more like a night out drinking than sleep, but you couldn’t remember going to a bar. 

With difficulty, your vision faded into view, but only on the left. Panic set in as there was only darkness on the right. Quickly lifting a hand nothing prepared you for the searing jolt of hot white pain that shocked your system. 

If you hadn’t been the one experiencing it, you’d have thought it funny how the pain sobered you up enough to remember you hadn’t been drinking— you’d just been severely injured.

With a groan, you took a deep breath and tried to feel yourself out. Pain slowly crept its way to the forefront of your awareness. Everything hurt. Everything. 

You didn’t really want to move after that jolt, but the need to check yourself over won out. _Just take some deep breaths…It always worked in movies._ Well, that’s what you tried to convince yourself would help. Spoiler alert…it didn’t. Agonizingly you pushed through it and sat up. Whimpering a cry you looked down at yourself.

A makeshift sling encompassed your left arm. Peeking inside, a noticeable distortion in your ulna and elbow was a jarring sight. No wonder you’d had a rude awakening. _I’m such an idiot, of course that’s the arm I try to move…ugh_. The bone was definitely not set, you needed a cast, some kind of surgery or something to fix your joint, and some strong pain meds, but where you’d been none of that was accessible. So a tablecloth was the next best thing. 

Luckily your right seemed functional if only achy from the multitude of bruising and cuts. Your lower half was in rough shape too though. If a stranger saw you, they’d perhaps think you were molting from waist down. With all the discoloration from scrapes, blood, and bruises. Your left knee looked swollen and had a few shallow cuts scattered up and down.

If that stranger kept staring they’d notice the shoddy gauze and tape job covering your right leg from thigh to shin. Just like your arm you’d done the best you could with what you’d had. And what you had wasn’t much. Not like you were a doctor or nurse regardless, so aside from basic first aid there wasn’t much you could do. You’d still like to give yourself an A for effort though because effort was definitely there in spades.

The wound was still clearly visible through your patchwork. Different lengths of gauze cobbled together and strategically placed to cover as much as possible. A few band-aids were splattered here and there, trying to make up for what couldn’t be covered. That being said there were still gaps and a nasty looking deep gash, running from upper thigh to low shin could be spied. Stitches and another hefty dose of pain meds would have been your medical recommendation. Too bad you had to do without. 

The gash’s placement was the worst in your opinion. At least with your arm you could try to minimize discomfort, like not being an idiot and try to move it again. Your leg basically guaranteed pain unless a wheelchair suddenly spawned next to you. And the last interaction you’d had with a wheelchair one almost killed you, so you’d pass on that too.

A stinging sensation from your right hip flared up with all your jostling. The skirt you wore was black, but you could see the slight outline of a darker discoloration where it sat on your hip. You froze while staring at that outline. _Oh yeah…blood…from the…_ you couldn’t even finish the thought as you shuddered. 

With a shaky sweaty hand raised you needed to check and see if it was still there. Lifting the edge of your skirt up past your hip you let a slow breath out as dread settled in your chest. Crudely carved where your thigh and hip met was _“13/21”_. You hadn’t had any bandages left for that one.

The sight of it sent a fresh chill down your spine. The obsessive cult member who’d kindly given it and everything else to you came to the forefront of your mind. You put your skirt back into place and squeezed your working eye shut tightly trying to shake the image of the insane man away, _Fucking cults….ugh._ All the shaking really did was add to your headache. But that helped push his image out too.

All of your bandages looked dirtied - stained with dried blood, sweat, and dirt. There probably wasn’t much use in keeping them on, but it made you feel better. 

Lifting your right hand this time, you felt a cut to your lip. It felt swollen and crusted blood littered down your chin. You were sure bruising was rampant with how sensitive everything felt, but you kept moving up. Fingers brushed the gauze patch taped over your eye. Applying even slight pressure to your cheekbone made you let out a hiss of pain. 

_I bet the cut hasn’t healed any yet either._ _Ugh, I feel like I got run over by a train…..actually, I kinda wish I had._

You shook yourself from the pitying thoughts to give a quick glance around. Nothing was familiar. You were sitting in soggy dirt in a forested area. Dense Heavy fog with light rain blanketed the area. 

You could hear the ambient sound of the weather. It honestly sounded nice, something you would have used to relax in any normal circumstance; Light rain, a fire crackling, crows calling out far in the distance…and some kind of mechanic sound. Okay, maybe you’d nix the mechanical noise otherwise it was a calming atmosphere.

On the plus side, your outfit was the same as far as you remembered. Quarter sleeved shirt, pleated skirt, and high top shoes. Everything in black of course, to match your soul— at least that’s what you’d like to sarcastically say, but you might be the only person laughing now. It still gave you some comfort though because even if you had no clue where you were, at least you knew you still had your own clothes.

You did however, have an inkling on _why_ you were here. The fact that you had all your injuries and yet you were in some unknown location filled you with some hope. If you let yourself believe it, then your gamble paid off. 

What’s more, there was a feeling in your skull behind the headache that was growing louder with each passing second.

It felt like scratching or gnawing and it wanted you to know it was there. An insidious other making itself and its wants known. Something that shouldn’t be there, but was, and if it wanted to sink its claws into you — then you’d have to play that part of a good scratching post.

You remembered that feeling during the ritual. It was invasive, uncomfortable— altogether other in the way it communicated and maneuvered in your mind. You desperately wanted to believe it’d listened to your plea. 

Rolling to your somewhat good leg you wretched yourself into a hobbled standing position with considerable effort. The sharp stabbing pains were back with a vengeance that almost brought you back down. It took some deep breathing and willpower to stop yourself collapsing or crying out.

Who knew what was lurking around these woods and you for one weren’t too keen on finding out. 

The scratching in your brain was becoming less of an itch and more of a demand to **_move_**. 

Shaking your head you set off incredibly slow. Pain pierced every step and paired with faulty depth perception - you were a sad sight. Stumbling and tripping over roots, yourself, air even. _Thank god no one’s watching me_ , you thought while wincing from the searing pain in your leg. _I bet I look like a complete idiot right now._ Stumbling your way towards the mechanical sound seemed like the best option. Maybe you’d find a clue where you were. Or someone to tell you where ‘here’ was.

Progress was in the eye of the beholder or maybe that’s not how the saying goes — excuse you for not being able to think clearly with consistent jolts of stabbing pain in your leg. Catching yourself on a root for what felt like the 87th time in the last 5 minutes you noticed you’d at least gotten somewhat closer because the sound of a motor was getting louder. It had sounded slow and wonky from far off, now though it seemed almost like a well-oiled engine. 

After another difficult stretch, you finally rounded a wooden wall where the noise was emanating from. There a man and woman were knelt down messing with what looked like some type of engine. 

Just as you were about to speak, your ankle snagged on a stray piece of wood. You let out a shriek as you stumbled forward - good arm extended to try and catch yourself. 

Before you even hit the ground there was a gasp and slight scream from the two of them. You’d swear later it was the man who screamed. Both of which sprang away from the machine _and_ you in an instant. They had jogged away as you let out a painful wail from hitting your bad knee as you went down.

You swore you’d heard a chuckle, but that was probably just your own imagination laughing at how pathetic you looked.

With a strained effort, you pulled yourself up and limped your way to the machine they’d been messing about with. There were cords knotted up inside and larger ones leading away from it. Looking up there were light bulbs flicker above. _Is it a generator?_ You’d seen a few before during camping trips, this one seemed like a more expensive one than what’d had access to. 

Either way, it didn’t leave you any closer to figuring out where you were, but with each passing moment you were more sure you’d gotten away. You sighed as you decided following after them was probably your best option as far as getting answers went. Slowly looking for any type of tracks you all but gave up that idea with how the fog, rain, and only having one eye masked any trace of them. So instead you set off in the direction they’d ran.

The trees, rocks, and gravel were giving you problems with each step. You’d tripped and fell one too many times already. Frustration was mounting inside you about ready to spill over. All you wanted was to lay down and just **stop moving**. There was no telling where they’d gone, but you saw a slowly blinking bulb similar to the last machine not too far off. Altering your course some you staggered your way there. 

As you drew closer the same sound became more noticeable. It wasn’t as quick as the last had been— sounded like it was trying to work, but didn’t quite have the power. 

It took you some time to get to it. You’d needed to stop a few times and just _breathe_ through the pain…and annoyance. 

Once you were close enough though, you had a clear view of the machine. You could see it being tinkered with by the same man as before, but a different woman this time. Both busy at work and hadn’t noticed your approach. 

Once in your grasp, you clutched the wooden wall. Leaning against it because _damn_ were you sweaty, tired, and winded from the walk. You gulped down a few deep breaths to try and calm the pounding in your head. 

Your mouth breathing must have alerted the pair because they both sprung up with a shriek and jetted away. 

You growled out a frustrated cry, “What the _fuck_!” You were beyond pissed, “I mean, I know I look terrible, but you’re just going to run away? Again?!”

This time it wasn’t your imagination. There was definitely someone flat out laughing. You looked over your shoulder as you heard clapping start.

Standing next to a tree giving what you assumed to be a round of applause while shaking with laughter was a man dressed in black from head to toe, a caricature mask of a screaming ghost, and strange gravity-defying scraps of cloth around him.

You chose to ignore the fashion statement, “Uhhh, thanks for the applause, I guess?” You were in pain, frustrated, confused, and now embarrassed.

Your answer made the man give a loud laugh, “That was one of the greatest things I’ve seen in a while! Your stumbling around has been the highlight of my week! And I’ve had a long week, trust me.” He had a nice voice. Deep. Attractive. And not something you really needed to notice at the moment.

“Thanks?” The confusion in your voice was obvious. Pretty sure he just insulted you then, but beggars can’t be choosers. You thought about it for a second longer then continued more sure of yourself, “Well, actually yeah, thanks for not running away.”

That got another chuckle. Albeit less cheery and more serial killer-y, “Oh, you might wish I had." 

"Oookay, edgy.” He’d started to make his way over to you. With your depth perception wonky, you weren’t sure how close he actually was. A shiver went down your spine and you could hear your heart jump into your throat. Even without his getup, there was something in the way he carried himself that gave a vibe of danger.

Feeling sweat roll down your neck that had nothing to do with the humidity, you took a slight step back and put your good hand up, “Look, you’re 10 for 10 scare factor, but I’m kinda lost with what’s going on here.”

The man wasn’t deterred by your gestures and walked until he was within arms reach. Up close he was at least a foot taller than you. But being naturally short, that was usual with most people. But this guy somehow added it to his intimidation factor without even trying.

You lowered your hand and tired standing straight, but your body ached too much for that. You settled for leaning onto your left leg and craning your neck up to lock gazes with him.

It was kind of awkward having a staring contest with a mask, but that’s what your life was right now. The stray thought of why is it always me? drifted in the back of your mind.

You were at a standstill with this terrifying unknown man. Not sure if you were supposed to initiate the conversation or if it’d be better to wait. In your experience waiting was always safest. Let the madmen talk and then you know where you stand. Maybe he wasn’t insane, but he definitely seemed just as dangerous as those cult members with that getup. 

Maybe it’d be worse if he wasn’t crazy, actually. He’d probably be able to plan much better than they had if he wasn’t. Thinking about it now you’d never wanted to talk to a crazy person more in your life than at this moment. You could handle that type of crazy. It’d be a breeze…even if conversations were like maneuvering in a minefield. 

The internal debate came to a halt when the masked man raised a hand to a stray piece of your hair. He plucked the strand up and tossed it up and down in his palm. Leaning in his tone perfectly casual as if you’d known each other for a while, “Hmm, you know, I don’t think anyone’s come here looking like you before." 

He dropped the stand and started a slow circle around you. Cold sweat started up again, _I hope they have deodorant here_ was a passing thought. You follow him with your gaze — not trusting him to not do something crazy. Your heart still pounding wildly in your ears. 

You’d meant to wait for him to continue, but couldn’t stop yourself, "What? Like a semi backed over them?”

That got another laugh from him. You raised a brow, you were really on a roll tonight. Maybe you should have considered comedy as a career, “Oh, I like you! We’re going to get along so well.”

You weren’t so sure that was a good thing. However, you’d take what you could get right now, “But nah, I meant looking so _prettily_ carved up." 

A shiver swept through you this time, "Someone really did a number on you.” He’d finally finished his circling and stood in place in front of you.

He picked at the sleeve of your shirt, “I wonder what else you’re hiding under here." 

You let out a nervous chuckle, "Nothing impressive, really. No giant scars or chest-bursting aliens." 

He tilted his head, "Hmm, maybe you need a second opinion? I’ve been told I’m very observant." 

Nervousness was clearly painted on your face. You tried to wave him off, "That’s ok, I’m good! Thanks for the offer though!" 

There was a pause before his intimidating posture broke into a fit of laughs. The overall effect made his stance seem much more friendly, but there was still something with an edge to it that kept you from relaxing. "You haven’t even been here half an hour, but you’ve given me some of the best entertainment I’ve had for a while.”

Ah, that was probably what kept you on guard. The slight humiliation you felt with his comments. Honestly, you weren’t sure if you should be insulted or glad he seemed to find you funny.

“You should have just seen your face! Priceless!” He laughed harder like he’d just remembered something. “And those _idiots_! Fucking perfect.” He pulled out…a camera? From…somewhere, “I got so many perfect shots. That was some top tier stuff, Doll." 

Your face was making an expression cocktail of confusion, annoyance, and embarrassment. “You…You were watching?….That whole time?” A sudden thought came over you and in a higher pitch than anticipated you all but shouted, “Since when?!” 

He was still messing around with his camera and waved you off, “Oh, Since before you woke up. I mean, why were you laying on the ground anyways.” The accusatory tone he’d used made it sound like it was somehow _your_ choice to be laid out in the soggy dirt, “That’s just begging for someone to trip over you really. Totally irresponsible.” 

The fear you’d just felt was quickly replaced by a mixture of embarrassment and indignation for this masked creep. Feelings clouding your survival instinct you poutily muttered, “Yeah, I definitely wanted you to trip over me and break your nose on the fall down.”

The man giggled. Not a laugh, chuckle, or anything manly. He straight up giggled, “Oh, little kitty has claws! Cute pout too. You’re just a treat.” He didn’t seem perturbed by what you’d said in the least. Instead, he leaned towards you and turned his camera, “Look this one’s my favorite!” It was a shot of you mid-fall, arm out, and the two people at the first machine with horrified expressions.

“Oh my god! Delete that!” Without thinking you automatically reached out to try and steal the device away. Quick as lightning the masked man pulled it away, “Uh ah, no touching my personal possessions. I’d never delete this! It’s going up on my wall.”

He looked at the camera again and continued his laughter, "Those dumbasses actually thought you were the _**killer**_! Haha!” he kept scrolling through his device, “What’d they think you were going to do? Carry them with your broken arm? Ha! I’d sacrifice myself to see that!”

That made you pause. _Uhh, killer, sacrifice? Fuck_.

You spoke up before he could continue, “Umm? They thought I was a what?”

The man put his camera away as he shook his head, “ _Killer_. They thought you were the **killer** of this trial. Can you believe that?” The pity in his voice didn’t seem genuine at all if you hazarded a guess it was more mocking. 

“Those poor schmucks really thought a, what?” he looked down at you and held a hand out from your head to his chest in a mock height measurement, “3 ft 2 injured girl was going to drag them away? Ha! Millennials.” Again with the mocking tone - a joke you weren’t included in, but somehow felt you were on the receiving end of. Also, you weren’t 3ft 2. Just short. Pout was suddenly back full force.

He waved his hands around a bit, "Anyways, I’ll give you a free pass for this because you’ve been so _delightful_.” He extended a hand and gripped your shoulder, either by luck or consideration it wasn’t your broken one, “See, this isn’t exactly home sweet home. Were all stuck in this fantastical little dimension, realm, or whatever with this big bad entity or god” He paused like he was thinking about it, “Eh, yeah I guess god, it controls everything anyways. Most important fact though, it likes games.” 

As soon as he said that relief immediately washed over you. The fact that he’d said you were in another dimension didn’t phase you in the slightest. You’d come from some fucked up _other_ version of reality anyways. All that phased you was knowing you’d succeeded in beating those dumb cultists. It had a lightness settle in your chest and despite the fact you should be scared, it was part of the deal you made in the ritual. 

_Fuck…that means…I’m so dead._ you’d just suddenly remembered the other half of your deal of bringing someone along with you. You’d gotten to choose, but he wouldn’t be happy. You just had to hope you wouldn’t run into him. Otherwise, You’d be ok with this. _Anywhere_ was better than your shitty home town of silent hill as far as you were concerned.

 _Fuck you, assholes_ you hoped those people could hear you or at least realize they’d never be able to complete their summoning or whatever it was without you.

Your celebration was cut short as the man dragged your attention back to him.

Releasing your shoulder he clapped his hands together, “A game we play in trials! Which means four of you little _survivors_ run around trying to fix those generators to open exit gates. Meanwhile, a killer,” he reached down and pulled out an incredibly sharp-looking knife and waved it about, “That’s me doll — catches you, hooks you, and ultimately sacrifices you to said entity. Trial ends, you all respawn” he paused again in thought, “Yeah, let’s go with the gamer lingo - you all respawn, go to your little campfire and wait for the next trial and we get to play all over again.”

You nodded your understanding. _Fucking great, he’s definitely a killer._ There wasn’t anything you could do at this point so instead, you paid attention to where this guy was brandishing the knife, “Okay, not every day I meet a murderer.”

The man had started to toss his knife around, catching it with great finesse, “Does that scare you, Doll?”

You watched him with his weapon and decided its better to be honest and pander to him than lie, “Duh, I’d be stupid if it didn’t. You’re making me nervous even without tossing that thing around. But sick skills you got, dude.”

He caught the weapon and paused, “Good.” He put it back wherever he got it before continuing, “There’s more killers than just me, but lucky you this trial’s mine.” With a chuckle, he added, “And lucky me I get your trial virginity.”

You choked on your own spit but otherwise chose not to acknowledge that last comment. Just as you chose to ignore the thrill it sent down your spine. It wasn’t an altogether bad feeling and that’s what was worrying. 

You looked to the generator instead, “So…that’s what those people were doing messing around with that.”

He nodded, “Yep. The little survivors are trying to win.” He’d said it like it was something cute a pet did. 

You looked at him, then to the generator, and back to him. He seemed willing to talk to you and even knowing his objective was to sacrifice you, maybe he’d take pity and continue to explain things. Plus knowing you were out of that torture town filled you with confidence, “Could you….um, would you maybe…ah never mind its —” Confidence quickly died.

He cut you off before you could continue, “Ah, ah, use your words. I want to know what you were going to ask. Go on.” He made a ‘come on’ motion with his hand.

“Would you…maybe…show me how…they fix it?”

There was complete silence and then boisterous laughter from him. 

“Could _I_ help _**fix**_ a generator?” When he said it like that you’d felt incredibly stupid for asking. Like you’d just said the world was flat and really believed it. Maybe you’d just ask him to hook you or whatever he mentioned to be done with this conversation.

“Aw, that pathetic look on your face is so cute! You know what, sure I’ll show you!” He closed the gap between you while saying, “Wouldn’t be fun hunting the clueless and those _dimwits_ won’t come near you. Come 'ere.”

He didn’t wait for you to answer and dragged you to the machine. You grunted from the sudden pain shooting through your system. Once there he stood behind you, placed both hands on your shoulders and pushed you down to your knees.

Your good eye watered in response to the amplified pain circulating your nervous system. In a tight voice you managed, “Some warning would have been nice, Dude.”

“Nice?! Do you want my help or not?” The tone had zero mirth in it, it was flat and bordered on offended.

“Sorry, sorry, you’re right. Please help me mr…uh” looking up at him - tears still pooling at the corner of your left eye with a voice that sounded nasally and had a sniffle to it, “What do I call you?”

He was looking down at you when his grip tightened on your shoulders. Then one hand moved up your throat, lightly pressing until his thumb extended up to push at the cut on your lip, “I can think of a few things, but ghostface works for now.”

The suggestive tone and positioning he’d used shot arousal up and down your spine. _That was….fuck that was hot…_ a blush broke out across your cheeks as you stared dumbly up at him. You’d really set yourself up for that one. You hadn’t even felt the pain from his prodding with the flush of arousal that shot through you. _Please brain get a hold of yourself. Right now is **not** the time to get hot for a serial killer._

His thumb grazing your lips a bit more, lightly dipping inside. Some sick part of you wanted to taste the leather, but before that urge could fully form he withdrew and moved it back down your throat. His hand felt so strong against you which wasn’t helping extinguish the feeling. Did he have some kind of kink-dar and knew you were into this or did he give this treatment to everyone he met?

Either way, you were ashamed to admit that if he really wanted to squeeze you’d let him. If he applied a _little_ more pressure you’d definitely let out an embarrassing moan. You swallowed hard, which you knew he felt and tried to control your breathing. Your face felt the hot - flush most likely extending down to your chest. You tried to avoid eye contact because your pupils had absolutely dilated, but with his grip, you were kind of forced into another stare-off. You only hoped he’d mistaken it all for embarrassment. 

So it was just as well that after a few more bated breaths he finally released you to crouch down - without comment. Instead of showing you what to do from beside you, like you’d assumed, he crowded around you and boxed you in “You get the best view this way. Have to pay attention after all.” You would bet your life that he winked just then. 

Nervous butterflies made a home inside your veins as you tried to calm down from what just happened. This guy, Ghostface, seemed to give off a fun teasing vibe, but there was definitely an undercurrent of ruthlessness. His type was always the ones no one ever expected. The ones that caused damage, liked it and got away with it.

And you were practically sitting in the man’s lap. _Fuck me, how do I always find the cults, serial kills, and monsters?_

His hands moved with surprising grace. 

“You move these here, connect these. Push this out of the way. Wait for that to click, twist this here and push that down all the way. Keep connecting these wires and rerouting anything going to the dead energy cells to the new ones you just activated.” It seemed like an afterthought because he mumbled, “Not complicated really. Sometimes I’m really not sure why survivors take so long.” You weren’t really sure if you were supposed to hear that last part.

You were really trying to pay attention, you _were_. But you’d be lying if you’d said you absorbed everything he’d done. You were still out of sorts and his close proximity wasn’t helping. All you could manage was, “If you’re a killer how do you know how to do this?”

He bonked you on the skull with a knuckle, “Weren’t you listening earlier? I’m observant. I’ve been here a while, it’s not hard.”

“Ow, geez! Are your knuckles rocks? That fucking hurt.” Rubbing the spot where he’d smacked you felt him lean into you more.

“Aw, you have such a nice little mouth on you. Maybe it needs to be taught a lesson.”

Arousal once again shot through you at that. His voice had dropped even deeper and if sin could be audible you swore his voice was coated in it. Your immediate thought was you’d let him do whatever he wanted to your mouth, but that was suppressed by, _He’s a killer for christ’s sake! Get a grip! A literal murderer. Don’t even go there._ Something in the back of your consciousness nagged for attention at that. In the deep dark recesses was a place telling you it really wasn’t as much of a deterrent as you’d like it to be. Something you were pointedly refusing to acknowledge.

You’d never met someone who could push all the right buttons for you so quickly. It’s just your luck it was in another dimension. That, and the small hangup of him being stabby. There were probably some deep psychological issues you needed checked out. That or you really needed to get a handle on your kinks….probably both.

Before you could fathom a proper response you heard some kind of explosion not too far off. 

Turning your head towards it, “What was that?”

His arms seemed to box you in for a few seconds more before he pulled away and stood up, “That’s my queue to be going.”

You looked up at him from your position on the ground, “Ok, does this mean you’re going to hook me or whatever it was now?" 

He put a hand over his heart, "Oh, you’re sweet too! Asking so _prettily_.” He dropped his hand to pull the knife out again, “You really shouldn’t go around asking people to hook you though, might give a man the wrong idea.” You swore you could hear the smirk in his voice. In a darker tone, he added, “You better not ask anyone **else** , at least. I’ll take care of you whenever you like.”

You were at a loss for words. He’d made it sound so personal… _intimate_ , even. You really couldn’t catch a break with this guy.

“But nah, you stay right here. Practice or something - I don’t care, just **don’t** move. I’m taking my time with you.” After a second he added in a jovial tone that was clearly meant to get under your skin, “Not like you’ll get far even if you do - all that tripping was really great on camera." 

You ignored his goading to nod instead. You had no intention of moving anyways. First, because you were exhausted and just wanted a break. Second, you’d let him have his way just so you didn’t have to deal with a pissed off murderer breathing down your neck, "Ok, Ghostface." 

Although, maybe you’d like if this one did. _Ugh, brain shut up!_

He reached out and brushed your hair for a second before moving down to grip your chin. His thumb brushed across your bottom lip to push on the cut once again. Wincing you moved your gaze up to his mask as he stared you down, "You have no idea what you’re getting into.”

Without elaborating he dropped his hand and stalked away. Shaking your head you dropped your gaze back to the generator. 

_I’m scared and horny for a guy calling himself ghostface….ugh why am I always attracted to someone fucked up. Fuck my life._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a tumblr under the same name, lackingspace. If you wanna interact go for it! :D


	2. Dispirited

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so AO3 just called me out on how long it is...sorry, not sorry. I even split it into two chapters. Lots of back story, I couldn't help it. It just happened. I like character development, I guess ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

You sat there contemplating your life decisions that lead you up to this point since Ghost Face stalked away. Trying to pinpoint the moment in your memory that had clearly screamed **‘** _turn back now’_. There had to have been some shining moment that stood out above the rest, right? A moment that looked you in the face— screamed you’re _totally_ fucked to eternal damnation, all while you stared back with indifference. 

That dark place in the back of your mind whispered at the edges of your awareness that maybe you didn’t have to think too hard. That maybe you were exactly where you deserved to be. That maybe just _maybe_ you were fucked up and the only _mistake_ here was that you were mixed in with survivors.

Avoidance was easy when you didn’t want to face difficult truths because the truth wasn’t always pretty. So, you pushed those thoughts away easily in favor of searching for said moment in your memories. 

Unfortunately, nothing so convenient came to mind. _Unless you can count having the terrible luck of being born into Silent Hill._ Rolling your eye at your inner voice— not like that was something you had control over anyways. Your family roots were dug down deep in the town’s history. Maybe founders? Maybe not, but pretty damn close that the distinction never really mattered. 

Rather, you chose to think about your town. Maybe there was something there that could point to a clue? 

The town itself really wasn’t bad— it had built itself up decently. Or so you’d always been told by older generations. Lots of tourists came for the historical sights in the old district and as such the influx of people allowed for uncapped economic growth. Considered a nice cozy vacation spot by many with cute shops, fun activities, a massive mall, and great views. You, however, weren’t privy to the rose-tinted glasses of travelers. 

As an adult, you realized your town had some highly questionable activity, although, what town didn’t? Growing up, there were areas you’d been forbidden from wandering around altogether. Your parents had said those areas were dangerous for kids— that only adults were permitted. It was something you never questioned— it was just part of life. 

If you ever did poke around too close to a blacklisted location, usually from some pushy schoolmate, a _friendly_ (read intimidating) family friend would promptly take you back home. Sometimes you didn’t see those school friends again, but looking back, for some reason, that seemed fine to you. 

Coming to the realization that there was a slightly different religious belief within the founding families hadn’t caused any red flags either.

You’d been to the church services and as a child, it was all mumbo jumbo to you. Just a thing your family went to every so often. It took you halfway through school to realize that some of the symbols and names you thought commonplace didn’t fit the status quo of your peers. 

It didn’t really matter much to you though, your parents weren’t as religious as most of the other families and once you were a teen they’d left the choice to attend the services up to you. 

Occasionally you’d go, but opted out frequently. You did read the literature though. Enough to know what’s what, who’s who, and the proper rituals for things. You could hold a conversation with any of the members, but you never believed in what they preached. 

It all seemed a bit silly to you and some of the people you’d talk with reinforced that fact. Others were just blatantly fanatical. Still, that seemed normal in and of itself, your parents said that there were always those kinds of people. Standard, right? 

It wouldn’t be until your early adult life that you’d realize the religion you thought was just a _different_ denomination, was definitely a sect of a cult. There were nights you stayed up trying to decipher your feelings on _that._ An odd dichotomy of betrayal, disbelief, yet acceptance. 

Maybe that was the shining moment you’d been looking for. More of a string of dull moments spaced out over sleepless nights. In those instances, you sat in disapproval, but silent compliance. Some of those people were your family— people you’d loved. Many were friends who were always there for any of your accomplishments and always kept a watchful eye for trouble. 

Was that love what condemned you to some alternate hell dimension? Love, or stupidity for thinking they wouldn’t touch you. _Honestly, fuck cults!_

Forced into an alternate foggy nightmare version of your town controlled by an ‘entity’ as a few of the cultists you knew and could converse with had called it. Everyone you’d encountered in the fog was different than their normal self, more crude— unrestrained, violent, raw.

Even the few people that _seemed_ like they had all their facets quickly revealed they were even crazier than the others. 

There was something about this place that bought out the worst in people. The fog had a strange sentience to it that seemed to carry faint echoes and whispers within it. If you stared too long those whispers always tried to latch onto that abyss in your mind. Amplifying it somehow and the thoughts you normally kept hidden away were always pushing to the forefront. 

Not to mention the actual _literal_ monsters running around. It hadn’t been a very fun place to be. 

When you’d been ambushed, beaten, and almost used as a sacrifice to help rebirth said entity into the physical plane by one of the fanatical congregation members…Well, all bets were off. 

You didn’t care about friendships anymore. No more conflicted feelings. Nope. None. There was a disconnect in affection after that. Cold indignation and rage let those dark thoughts in easily. You’d only gotten away because they’d been interrupted by one of the most _terrifying_ monsters in town. 

So you planned, waited, and outplayed them by making a deal with the ‘hidden one’. 

At least that’s what you’d always heard it called growing up, anyways. They probably should have thought out their bright idea of using someone who knew their doctrine. 

Especially dumb of them to leave out all the books and things you’d needed to do said ritual. You might have loved some of these psychopaths, but you sure as hell didn’t consider them geniuses. 

Turns out the hidden one was just a different entity altogether? From what your masked murder friend had explained, anyways. 

If you were condemned regardless— this place seemed the better option by far. Especially with said masked man making you _feel_ such nice things running around here. Snorting out a sound of disgust at your own thoughts, _Oh my god!_

You let your head fall back against the wall staring at the tangled mess inside the generator as you slowly came back to the present. None of those past things really mattered anymore. You’d won yourself some new hellscape. 

On the plus side, you’d willingly put yourself here and _honestly_? You were ok with that. Pretty sure there wasn’t a loophole to get outta this one anyways. 

On the downside, you realized your choice of killer was probably pretty bad…. _Yeah, I definitely fucked these clueless people with that decision_. Yourself included. _If they thought_ ** _I_** _was scary…They’re_ ** _not_** _ready._ But how were you supposed to know that’s why the entity had requested you choose someone, well, some _thing_ to bring. 

You’d shrug if you could, _Oh well, guess the entity doesn’t do take backsies._ With nothing going on you figured you might as well take Ghost Faces’ parting advice and practice. 

_It would have been nice if I had been magically healed when I was magically swept off though._ Looking down at your arm that ached from everything you’d put it through in the last hour. _That **really** would have been nice_. Wishful thinking.

You’d heard a far off scream that seemed uncannily loud. Turning your head you couldn’t make out anything through the thick fog. Another scream echoed not much longer after the first. This one seemed much more painful than the last. Then another scream with a different pitch. 

_Damn, he looked the part but, guess he wasn’t joking about being a stabby killer._ The screams didn’t alarm you and that was concerning. Avoidance honestly was turning into your best friend here.

Only having one functioning hand really put you at a detriment. Trying to move the components like he’d shown you was proving difficult. Just as another scream rang out you hissed in pain as an electric shock was delivered to your system. 

“Ow! Fuck!” You quickly ripped your hand out and waved it around to shake the pain off. Your fingers were slightly red, but otherwise no burns. Mumbling to yourself, “Ugh, that didn’t happen to him! He made it look so easy…” you blew on your fingers to try and cool the sting. Everything was quiet again— serene even. 

Trying again, you diligently moved the cords. A small spark zapping your fingers— you let out a small shriek, but kept trying to repair….but lo and behold _another_ spark ignited, you somehow managed to pull out a few cords in your involuntary jerk to remove your hand. 

Your good hand wasn’t feeling so good anymore. Fingertip sensation dulled while simultaneously filled with painful throbbing sensations. Almost like your hand had fallen asleep and woke up, but worse. 

_Ugh, why is it mechanical things_ ….Sticking your hand back into the tangled mess, you started putting the wires you’d pulled out back into place only to get zapped…again… _I’m terrible at mechanical things…_

Pouting while wanting to cry you pushed yourself to keep at it. Giving up wouldn’t solve anything— trial and error was really the only way for you to get any better. That was a mantra you’d heard countless times growing up _practice, practice, practice._

No one could say you lacked perseverance and if they tried you would definitely have zero issues with karate-chopping them in the throat!

Trying to keep at it was also good for keeping your mind occupied. Screams kept sounding out sporadically. From what Ghostface had explained, you were supposed to be helping them. Sure they’d run at the sight of you, but those were the rules of this realm, right? 

Practicing was a long term help, but still…you were just sitting here… Burning your own fingertips off…Generator incapable of making anything stronger than a sad sputter of life. The gnawing in your brain was quiet, but shouldn’t you be doing more? 

What actually bothered you most was that you felt perfectly content in ignoring those screams. You didn’t know these people at all, so that made sense there wasn’t any emotional attachment….but shouldn’t you care that there were 3 people running around actively being hunted, tortured, mutilated even (who knew what kind of killer he was) but weirdly you just….didn’t care?

That indifference bothered you one hundred times more than any of the screams. You were honestly a really emotional and friendly person, promise! _I really do need that psychological help, I guess. Somethings really gotta be wrong with me if I’m quick to turn into a blushing teen for some dude, but have zero feelings about murder…I don’t remember being_ ** _that_** _fucked up… but…I guess…maybe…_

Something in the sky in your periphery grabbed your attention. It was a swirling black cloud that looked as if it’d burned its way into the sky. A black void opened within the center and spindly black protrusions descended. 

The sight sent a shiver down your spine while raising the hair on your arms. It was vaguely familiar somehow. The…appendages? (They kind of reminded you of crab legs) They were lifting something up into the void. Staring hard, it looked vaguely humanoid— realization dawned that it was one of the women you’d seen. 

_Wow…well, he did say sacrifice….that looks like a dictionary definition of it._ Again the sight of the actual void disturbed you more than the body or the implications of what had occurred. 

The only other pressing issue on your psyche was that if this was the real world you’d likely be considered an accessory to murder in a roundabout way. _Thank god it’s not reality then because with my garbage attitude I’m half sure I’d devolve into some kind of Bonnie and Clyde situation with this asshole._

The brief break was what you’d needed for your fingers to regain semi-normal sensation. Setting your mouth into a hard line of determination you were focused on getting this dumb machine to sound like something other than a sad dying horse. 

For the next few minutes you put as much attention as you could into the tangled web of wiring. After the 8th shock, you had to pull your hand out. It was dirtied with grease or oil you weren’t sure which, but the sight of it made you snort out disgust. 

“Yuck…what am I supposed to wipe this off on?” Your mind supplied grass. It was literally the only option other than your clothes, to be honest. Yeah, grass would work. It was wet and could at least rub off the nasty machine blood from your poor singed hand. Hopefully, cool the stinging sensation too. While trying your damnedest to get the stuff off, faint footfalls were quickly approaching. 

You could hear the splatter of the soggy mud underfoot of someone in a light jog. Still idly wiping your hand you turned towards the noise. Slowly emerging through the fog was the other woman who’d originally run at the sight of you. She was moving fast for having a slight limp. Her hand had a tight grip on her side and on closer inspection, her light-colored shirt revealed blood slowly seeping from a hidden wound. 

When you locked gazed there was a half-second stutter in her step. Like she really was surprised to see you on the ground there, but only needed that moment of hesitation to get over it. 

Her pace slowed as she made her way over to you, coming to a halt altogether when she was within distance for you to extend your leg and trip her. _Um, I really shouldn’t judge distance by bodily harm…She’s a good 2 feet-ish away. Yeah, that sounds better._

It looked as if she was about to say something to you, her gaze was full of distrust, but you could see the curiosity underneath. Her mouth opened and it was like time slowed down— like you were suddenly submerged in water. Movement slowed down, but still retained a strange fluidity. 

Your gaze slid behind her as you saw your masked murder man lean out from the side of the wooden wall. _Wait…mine?! He’s not mine!_ If your heartbeat wasn’t suddenly in your ears the silence would have only been broken by the women’s huffing breath.

Ghost Face raised a finger to the perpetually open scream of his mask in a gesture of quiet while he raised his knife hand high. Your gaze slid back to the woman in front of you and it seemed she was none the wiser. You only had one eye on display and lots of injuries so maybe she was caught up on your appearance…. _again._

The brief thought that warning her would be _so_ easy floated across your perception. You could have too. There was enough time to yell out or even give her a facial queue…but you didn’t. It wasn’t even an urge, you knew what was about to happen and yet, didn’t mind— it was just the acknowledgment that you _could_ have, a better person definitely **would** have. 

So instead, your face remained passive as you watched Ghost Face silently sneak up behind her, your thoughts even turned biting, _Wow…you’re really clueless…Weren’t you just running from him? And you what? Just…forgot?_ Then he broke the silence with a really exaggerated, “Boo!”.

Before she could panic his knife was slicing through the air— making contact on the side of her neck carrying through down her back. She dropped instantly with a harrowing scream. The initial slice must have been at the right angle or hit an artery or _something_ because blood splatter against your cheek and shoulder. 

“Dude, gross!” you all but whined, disgust clearly coating your voice. He chuckled as he hefted the woman up to one shoulder. The display of strength had you stop for a moment, _damn…ok workout, much?_ You snapped back to your disgust, “I bet you did that on purpose…”

He watched you as he sauntered past and with a patronizing lilt coloring his tone, “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Cupcake. I would _never!_ ” You colored at the new nickname and turn to watch his movements while trying to wipe the blood from yourself— keyword _trying_ because all you managed was to smear it at best. 

His destination seemed to be some kind of wooden structure cobbled together. It had a few trinkets hanging from the side with a mean-looking hook jutting out. _How did I not notice that? Wait…hook…hooking? Are you serious?!_

As you came to the realization of what hooking was you watched the scene unfold. He carried her like a sack of potatoes, but he definitely didn’t toss her up there like one. That’d imply he didn’t care where she landed. No, he cared very much about the end goal. 

He popped the woman up with a harsh shoulder jab to her stomach, gripped her side, and all but slammed her onto the hook. Blood splattered onto Ghost Face who was completely unfazed by it. _That had to have pierced a lung for sure._

The scream she let out was piercing and would reverberate inside your skull for a few minutes. It swept a shiver down your spine and the hair raised on your arms— trouble was you felt that tar pit echo inside you at the sight and you couldn’t really discern if you disliked the feeling. As you watched, those sharp black crab looking legs conjure up from nothing to stab into the woman’s torso. Blood, guts, and everything gorily nasty was on display. 

You wanted to look away, you swore you _did_. But you couldn’t. 

You had the ability to, but the scene captivated you in a morbid obscenity. Your own consciousness demanding you there while pleading you to watch— to _see_ as life quickly fled her eyes. You let out a small gasp at the sight, your system flushed with sensations, though you were ashamed to say none were from disgust. Shock was the closest you got. 

That dark pit in you hummed with _something_ pleasant and the gnawing of the _entity_ in your brian sang out in contentment. As her lifeless body sagged, those legs began an ascent, lifting her body— looking up you saw the sky had opened to that charred void once again. You continued to watch as she was swallowed into the emptiness and it vanished from the sky. 

_I’m definitely an accessory to murder after that. What would my mom say? Fuck._

As your gaze moved back down you noticed Ghost Face hadn’t been watching the spectacle, he’d been watching you. 

Still processing what you’d just seen and how your mind was in some serious need of help, he skipped his way back over to you and crouched down. He pointed to his face, “We match now, Cupcake!” You turned your stare onto him— he was wiggling a finger to point at the blood on the cheek of his mask. You stuttered out a laugh you wish you’d held in, “I…Dude…Stop! That’s gross!” 

“Aw, don’t be like that.” His dejected tone was definitely fake, “Come on let’s commemorate this!” He pulled out that same digital camera and moved into position to take a selfie. 

“What?! No! Don’t take a picture! I don’t need evidence of this!” He threw an arm over your shoulder without regard to you or your injuries. “Evidence? Ha! You make me laugh! That doesn’t matter here. Who do you thinks gonna find it, anyway? The entity police?!” 

His side pressed against your broken elbow while he gripped your shoulder. Hissing through the pain you tried to move, but he was like a rock, “Fuck! That hurts! Do you not know personal space?” 

The grip on your shoulder tightened, “There’s that _pretty_ little mouth of yours again.” Your struggling instantly froze. He released your shoulder to move his grip onto your chin, glove smearing more blood. Directing your face to stare up at him the feeling of locking gazes was there even if you weren’t able to see, “Be a good girl and pout for me.” 

Swallowing what felt like your whole tongue— the burning in your cheeks and between your thighs started back up. Thinking he was done was a mistake because he caught you with that deeper sinful tone, “Or do I have to choke you again to get you to do what I want?” Sharp inhale and face flushing in embarrassed arousal.

 _Fuck. Fuck. Fuckkkkk!! Alright, so he obviously picked up on that earlier. Fuck this is embarrassing! Does he have to ask so casually though? Right, Just nod and stay calm._ Even with that pep talk, your heartbeat kicked up, face ignited into a blazing blush, and you felt a throb of desire from somewhere that wasn’t your irritated arm. 

Maybe it was your pupils dilating or the blush, but there was _something_ because he released your chin, “Oh! You like that idea, I don’t mind doing it.” His hand slipped down to curl around your throat, “In fact, if you wanna know a secret…” He gently squeezed— your eye fluttered for a second, but you would _not_ moan for this asshole. You **wouldn’t**! 

That squeeze turned into a surprising caress, “I like that idea too.” Your eye shot up to his mask, searching for a gaze.

There were no thoughts in your head at that. Just white noise from the fire that spiked through your brain. 

Your core throbbed, the skin on your arms crawled in a sensitized tingle, and you made some kind of embarrassing half giggle half desperate gasping noise when he gave a deeper squeeze. The two of you seemed to be at a standstill, gazes (you think?) locked, you searching the inky blackness of the eye holes trying to _see_ anything— but there was nothing but pools of shadows. 

The moment passed as he released your neck and moved his hand back to your shoulder. 

He snickered and only acknowledged you with a singular, “Cute.” Holding the camera up again, “Now where’s my pout?” Your broken arm still screamed, you felt embarrassed, turned on, and dumbfounded for how incredibly _easy_ this guy could play with you. 

Having nothing left to do but what he wanted, you made the best pout in your repertoire for him. If this bastard wanted you to pout then you’d make sure it was one that captured everything you were feeling. One that would hopefully captivate him because if he could play you, then you wanted to play him too. You promised yourself in that moment you were going to fuck up his day one way or the other. 

“Perfect. That deserves its own little wall.” There were so many things you wanted to say, things you wanted to call him, but you couldn’t decide on one, so you kept quiet while he snapped a few more pictures. 

When he stopped, you were sure he’d have moved away, but instead, he stayed put. Perfectly content to keep you wrapped up under his arm. Strumming his fingers against your shoulder he looked back down to you, “Well, I guess we should get back to business, huh? You’re not gonna hook yourself.” 

That got you to speak up quickly, “Uh uh! Nope! Not happening! I’m not going up there like a willing little piece of meat.” 

He pushed your head onto his shoulder and ruffled your hair, “You were so sweet before. Had a change of heart after watching it, huh?” He let your head up, “And duh, you’re not going up _there_. If you were observant like me,” he paused to emphasize the ‘me’ by pointing to his chest, “You’d realize there’s not a hook there anymore.”

Craning your head to look at the post, what he said was true. There wasn’t a garish hook there anymore. “Huh? Where’d it go?” You’d spoken without meaning to. 

“Don’t worry about it.” He directed your attention into the fog, “Were going out there and you’re **going** on a hook, doll.” 

You looked up at him in complete seriousness, “I swear to god or whatever this crustacean entity is,” he snorted at that, “If you put me up there I’m going to kick you in the face…or chest. But one of those two will happen.”

There was silence as both of you stared at one another then he broke it with a boisterous laugh, “Damn, is it my birthday? Or does the entity just love me more than the others?” You scrunched your eye in annoyance trying to discern his reaction.

“Threatening me with bodily harm?” He ran a hand through your hair only to grab a tight fist and crane your head back, “you just might be after my black little heart." 

You sneered and sarcastically said, "Yeah, maybe I am.” Funny how you were only half-joking. “But you’re wrong about the entity. I made a deal with it, so I think it likes **me** more." 

"Oh? Deal? Tell me more.” That question actually sounded sincere. Whether it was or not, didn’t matter because you were still filled with satisfaction knowing you’d get to deny him something he wanted. 

With your hair still balled in his fist you gave him a smug smile, “I don’t kiss and tell. You’ll have to take me on a date first.”

His fist tightened and pulled your head back exposing your throat to the cool air. Wincing a small moan slipped past your lips before you could clamp down on it— blush deepening he leaned into you. God, he was so close, you could smell him— an intoxicating mix of a surprisingly crisp clean scent, leather, and something metallic that was _probably_ blood. If he didn’t have a mask you swore he’d have been latched onto your neck as he growled, “That can be arranged.”

That…that was unexpected. 

From what you’d seen so far he had the personality of a fucking clown. The lust part of your brain hissed, _A clown that really knew what worked for you_. Everything was fun and games, teasing, approachable, and easy charm. 

Under that was a sprinkling of voyeur, murder, sadism, manipulation, and probably a few other unsavory traits. Add that together and— bam! You’d have this asshole. The _manipulation_ though, you could tell he was fucking _good_ at it. Look at the way he played you. But what he’d just said. Damn. That caught you off guard even knowing that.

There was _something_ in his voice that betrayed him. Desire? Want? Something in that family but darker, more intense, something just out of reach that you couldn’t quite capture. That unknown feeling made it really sound like he actually wanted to do it. Like he’d follow through with it. Probably just part of the manipulation….but still….

That genuinely stunned you. Not the fact that he probably wanted to fuck you. Who knew how long he’d been here or if anyone else tolerated him. He might be a killer, but he totally seemed like the kind to still enjoy sex. 

It was the fact that he didn’t seem to mind putting in the _effort_. That was kind of genuinely flattering— It was simple and honestly probably spoke worse about your past relationships but you liked him expressing it. You’d had much worse interactions with non-murderers. Guys _and_ girls not wanting to do more than order takeout and call _that_ effort. 

Imagination be damned because you swore you felt breath on your neck through the mask, “You really are a little treat, Cupcake.” The hairs on your neck stood and your eye fluttered shut again. A shiver spread down your arms, neck, and made an express path directly to your clit. Your back straightened into an arch and your head pushed back into his hand.

Another moment passed and he pulled back, “But time’s a-wastin’! Let’s get you up and on your very first hook!” His playfulness was palpable while your dread was heavy. “Yeah, how about we just pass on that.”

He didn’t listen to a word you said. As you were continuing to protest, “I swear by what I said earlier! If you put me up there tha-” lifting you with no effort, he held you under your arms like you were a child _or_ a stuffed animal. “Yeah, yeah, you’re gonna stab me in the eye. You know I’d really like to see you try, Cupcake.”

In outrage, you were completely serious when you tried to kick him while voicing, “Alright, gimme your knife and I’ll show you, then!” He stopped your kick and lifted you onto his shoulder quickly. Once in place, he pat the back of your thigh, “Save that energy for our date." 

You heard what he said, but couldn’t process it because _holy shit_ , but also the position put your arm back into agony with the added bonus of pressure on your hip injury. You let out a whine, "Ow! Fuuuucckkk! That hurts! Fuck my arm! My hip!” You really were trying to restrain your cries, but a sob left you a shuddering mess. 

“Ohhh, hip? What do we have going on there?” He suddenly flipped you back over his shoulder and into a bridal carry. 

Brain rattling around your skull from whiplash— arm slamming back onto your torso and you swore the vision you did have whited out for a second. You could still hear his greedy voice insist, “Lemme see, which hip is it?” 

Getting a grip on his robe because you definitely _didn’t_ trust him not to drop you. “Dude, no! Why are you so interested, anyway? Jealous you didn’t get to give me them?” He shuffled you around trying to make you fit into one arm. _Okay, he doesn’t look that jacked but he’s g-_ the inner monologue was quickly cut off by his hand grabbing you fully on the ass. 

Saliva caught in your throat as you tried to swallow. Body stiff and your face on fire your voice cracked, “H-hey!” His other hand went to grab your skirt as he cut you off, “Shh, don’t ask a question if you already have the answer for it, genius.” Of course, he wanted to slice you up…Nasty kinky bastard. 

You couldn’t stop him from flipping up your skirt (did you really want to stop it though?) to view, well, _everything._ He was just staring silently at the carving “Oh my _God_! Put my skirt back down you perv!” You went to elbow him with your good arm in the chest but had to bail mid-strike and wrap it around his neck or risk falling. 

You certainly didn’t think he’d catch you. Probably just let it happen and laugh. You weren’t down for that. Nope, you’d rather let him stare and not crack your head open. A small whisper of, ‘ _not like you really minded_ ’ caressed your senses. _Thank god my underwear isn’t white, that’d be wayyy more embarrassing then._

“13/21? That some kind of date?” His grip tightened on your ass and fist balled your skirt, “Wait, You don’t have a boyfriend or something, right?! Is that who got to carve you up?” The emotion in his voice was the angriest you’d heard yet. Possessive, even. Like if you said yes, that person, and probably you, would be in a world of trouble. Better alleviate that quickly.

“What?! Boyfri- No! I don’t. Not that it’s really your business anyways. And it doesn’t mean anything, don’t worry about it.” as an afterthought you added, “Are you gonna put my skirt down now? Or leave it on display for the birds too?….Perv.”

That seemed to calm him as his grip softened, “Good.” Surprisingly he complied with your request, “Not like it’d matter even if you did. Obviously isn’t doing it for you. Not with how desperate you were gagging for it earlier.”

That had you instantly smacking him in the chest the best you could while still trying to hold on, “I was **_not_** gagging for it!” Your smack was probably like nothing. No harder than the slight drizzle drifting down on the two of you because it had no effect— he gave no reaction, “Eh, maybe not yet, but you sure as hell were desperate for it.” You snorted in disbelief, “Desperate?! You’re the one that pulled up _my_ skirt! **Me** , desperate? Hah! Desperate my ass.” 

“Hey now, not my fault you were holding out on me. Said you weren’t hiding anything interesting, that’s pretty interesting if you ask me. Had to see that myself.” You looked up at him with a smug smile, “Uh-huh, and now who sounds like the desperate one.” 

He tossed you in his grip, just a small bounce, but it served its purpose by jostling all your injuries and sending you into a stabbing aching ball of pain. You let a sob out, “Fuck! you’re an asshole!” That finally got him to chuckle, “We both know that, brat.” adjusting his grip to grab under your legs he still maintained the grip on your ass, “I love that spicy little mouth of yours, but is gonna get you into so much shit with the other killers.” He paused in his movement, “Actually, don’t fucking talk to them like this. Don’t talk to the other survivors like this either. This is just for me now. Got it?”

The audacity! He thinks he can just tell you what’s what just because he could **completely** tell you _might_ let him dick you down if he asked nicely— Ok, you’d let him regardless, but that’s beside the point. 

Bantering just came so naturally with him. You didn’t even have to try— it was effortless. Switching between sarcastic jabs to compromising positions back to normal was as easy as breathing. Like the two of you weren’t strangers, that you just _clicked_ with him easily.

Maybe it was all part of his whole killer schtick, be charming as fuck, _probably is actually._ But if you listened to the murmurings of that deep dark void in yourself…well, you’d hear that you wanted him to think the same with you. 

That to you, there was an unwanted (the void lovingly cooed **_liar_** ), but undeniable chemistry between the two of you. Something in you recognized something in him— and you liked what it found. 

That fucking scared you to your core. That the things you kept locked away or ignored might be much worse than what you believed. But were you gonna let him know that? Fuck no. 

He has another thing coming! So instead sarcasm was a great defense mechanism and you were pretty good at utilizing it, “Last I checked you’re not my dad, so I don’t have to listen to you.”

Head tilting back to laugh before he looked back to you. Instead of annoyance in his voice, it was that deep sinful tone that hit _just_ right, “Oh, but Cupcake! I can be your daddy if you’re naughty enough…Seems like it might be easy for you.” he..you…how did you **not** see that coming before you let it slip out of your mouth? Holy shit. You weren’t even really into that but like, holy hell, how did he make that sound _hot as fuck_?! 

You let out an exasperated sigh, “I…you…damn…I fucking walked right into that…” he pat your ass and _yes_ you loved it, however, humiliation was at the forefront of your mind. It was doing awful things to your panties though, “As long as you know you started it, not me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to interact or stay updated, I have a tumblr for this fic! Lackingspace there too. but you know, no pressure.


	3. Torrid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SMUT HAS ARRIVED.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um so....I can't believe I wrote this. I've never EVEN written smut before, but guess I'm here now. Dont judge me.

When he came to a halt again, you looked up and realized he was in front of the dreaded hook apparatus. Dread filled your sense and dowsed any excitement you’d just felt. Protesting again would be pointless, so instead your grip tightened on his robe. 

He must have felt you tense, “Aw, don’t worry, Cupcake. I can be gentle when I want….as long as you ask nicely like a good girl that is.”

You looked to him— he was already looking at you. “You're….really gonna make me say it, aren’t you?” a single nod was his response. Sighing you took a moment to gather yourself, “Could you….maybe not…body slam me…onto the hook…please?”

He shook his head, “You know, that didn’t sound very genuine to me. Might have to use a little extr—” you cut him off, “Ok! Ok! Sorry, geez" you mumbled out, “Sensitive…” Silence filled the air as he just tilted his head in waiting, “Alright, fine, could you please do what you have to do, but like in the least painful way possible? Please??” 

There was a pause and tense moment before, “Not totally there, but you know what, I’ll take it. We can work on it later…Liked your body slam imagery, anyways.” 

A tiny bit of tension left you. This was going to suck. Like, this was going to be fucking _hell_ , you had a high pain tolerance, but this wasn’t like a broken arm. It was a _fucking butcher hook_! At least you wouldn’t be suplexed onto it like you were in a wrestling match. _Poor lady really had to have felt that_ you thought as he was jostling you around. 

Fighting was always your first instinct, but it’d be pointless now. What could you really do with how messed up you were? Pretty much nothing. And you could tell there wasn’t any way to negotiate out of this.

_Why the fuck do I even like this guy?!_

“Alright, upsy-daisy!” He lifted you to the hook, you could feel the unnatural cold emanating from it. Even through your shirt, it felt incredibly icy. You tensed as he was slowly pushing you onto it. 

The press of it tearing through your shirt and _just_ slicing into skin had you struggling against his hold. As you felt the steel pierce into your muscle, you tried your damnded to stay quiet— didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

But that plan failed as a scream ripped itself from you the further the hook dug in. As you screamed he quickly tugged you down onto it. Like getting a new piercing the hook quickly emerged through the front of your chest all at once. You weren’t sure if you were thankful or not. The pain said _no_ , but the quick movement hadn’t been _rough_ , just efficient, it didn’t draw out the process. 

Still…it hurt like hell. It was probably kinder in the end. Happily, though, your good leg followed through with your earlier threat even if it was involuntary and kicked out into his chest.

He made a muffled ’ _oof_ ’ sound and grabbed the offending limb with a tight grip. Satisfaction filled you even as new pains ripped through your nerves. 

You heard the annoyance in his tone, "A real knee jerker there.” You would have groaned from how _bad_ that was if you weren’t preoccupied. 

Blood was pouring from the protrusion in your torso. You could feel it soaking down your chest and through your shirt. You groaned out a sob and tried to find a position that didn’t pull as much, but every angle sent new jolts that hurt just as bad as the last. 

It must have missed everything vital, but that didn’t make it any less difficult to breathe or feel the way it tore at your muscles. Talking was rough, but you managed, “This…Oh god…this….feels ter—rible…ugh.”

“But you look _so_ pretty up there.” dropping your gaze to the sadist, you hadn’t even felt him release you, but he was standing back snapping pictures of you. Giving him the middle finger. “You…fu-fuck—ing…bastard!”

He lowered his camera and snickered, “That’s not news, Cupcake. Pretty much known by everyone” He shook his head and said, “But you wanna know something that **is** interesting?” 

You were trying to stay as still as possible, but blood, sweat, and cries were coming unrestrained now, so you just rolled your eye and groaned in pain as an answer.

He walked up to you and gripped both legs, thumb pressing on the outer edge of the gash on the right. The motion pulled the hook, a fresh wave of blood and pain seared your system. Tears sprung to your eye— beneath it all, desire somehow still surged through your system, “I’ve noticed a curious little thing about you, doll face. A look in your pretty little eye, actually.” 

He slid his right hand up under your skirt to press at the numbers carved on your hip, you gasped in surprise and want— left hand still gripping your thigh, “I’ve watched a lot of people, seen a lot of things. Watching you though…There’s something curious there.” His palm flattened against the skin of your hip, you moaned mainly from pain, but an undeniable pulse of arousal rocked your system at his proximity to your core.

You choked out a sob when he dragged his palm in a caress to the edge of your underwear, “H-hey!” Ignoring you, he played with the edge there, “ You could have warned that girl I was behind her, could have told her to run, would have been **so** easy for you, but I _saw_ you.” His voice coated in a deep dark edge that spoke to that swirling rift rolling inside your mind, “You made a choice there. And you wanted her to die **just** as much as I did.” 

Your pain tolerance may have been high, but this was on another level. It was making talking strained, breathing came in huffs now. 

The molten lava running amok through your veins from his accusing words didn’t help either. The whole situation fulfilled you in some depraved way. Fitting perfectly into the dark fantasy section of your mind. 

All you could manage to object with was a sad chuffed disbelieving noise. He shushed you anyways, “Ah ah, you **did**.” His fingers dipped under the satin material but held off there. You were certain your pulse couldn’t go any higher. 

Your insides had ignited with an unrestrained burning of _want_ for him to continue to _talk_ and to _touch_. It helped numb the pain, but caused an even bigger problem between your legs.

He felt your thigh tense as he continued to play with the area. You were guilty and could condemn yourself later if you really wanted to continue the delusion, but at that moment you were internally pleading, begging him to just dip his fingers in! 

As sick as it was, you _wanted_ this— wanted _him_ to do it to you _._

“I saw **you**. It’s so _easy_ to read you, ya know. You knew what I was going to do to her…know what I **am** …Hell, I _told_ you, you don’t have an excuse there.” He looked you over voice deepening even more as he continued, “But your cute little face said you thought she **deserved** it. That you _wanted_ me to do it. Imagine my surprise, ” 

A sob left you. A combination of the pain, his words, and the frustration that as much as you wanted to deny it, there was some truth there. His phrasing was harsh, but there was that part of you that _had_ thought something similar. _I’m not…I didn’t want her to die…I just…I’m…I’m fucked up._

Struggling to catch a breath, you wanted to deny it, _needed_ to deny it. So sputtering out, “yo-u…you’re wro..wrong!” his fingers slid under the fabric and pulled it up, stretching it against your skin— feeling the material against his gloves. 

His other hand slid up to grip your hip. You could have screamed at him to stop. To get his dirty hands **_off_** you. That everything he was saying was a disgusting _lie_ ….but…you didn’t want that. 

What you really wanted was for him to _keep_ touching you. 

To keep telling you all of the dark things he noticed because it gave you some wicked satisfaction to know he’d seen what you liked to hideaway. A perverse delight purred in you at his words. This was _fucking_ humiliating, disgusting— and made your core throb in want. 

How could something so _wrong_ feel so right— so _good_. 

“I thought so too at first. Maybe you just have resting bitch face—” You interrupted with a snort of dismay, “But you cared more about the blood that splattered on your cute little face than me slicing up someone in front of you.” He was **right**. You had thought that was nastier than what he’d done. 

How could you not have connected that? Were you really that disconnected from everything? Had you lied to yourself that well?

“And don’t forget when I hooked her because I fucking won’t. I watched you, noticed every little twitch….and you fucking **loved** it.” Again, you were going to object— that wasn’t true. 

You didn’t! You… you just couldn’t…

That was something you _couldn’t_ just look away from. That’s all, it was bizarre and strange and entrancing and _anyone_ would have been awestruck only capable of staring. 

But then he fully slide his palm under your panties and cupped your sex. Your brain shut down while being swallowed up in flames all at once, “I bet you got so fucking wet watching.” 

You let out a gasp because _how could he even suggest that?!_ And god how did it feel that _good_. And how was he so _right?!_

The burning jitter flushed through your system masking the stabbing pains. The feel of his gloved hands against your pussy did something to you.

They were probably nasty, _probably_ still had traces of blood on them, but you didn’t care. The feel of the leather cupping you was everything you’d dreamed of.

You couldn’t think properly— nervous system buzzing with flames coated in pain— was really messing you up. 

You were disgusted by how wet this was making you, _I’m so fucked…ohhh god_ he rubbed his palm against your clit. _This is so fucked up….but ahhh, yesss…it’s so hot…_

You wanted to sob in frustration because how dare he touch you like this while making you confront something about yourself that you didn’t want to see. 

“Do you even realize you moaned?” The incredulity in his voice was clear. You hadn’t…Had you?

His grip tightened at your hip as a finger slipped through your folds to catch your clit and fuck it hit just _right_. The surge of pleasure mixed with the dull pain satisfied something deep in you that had you moaning out, “Yeah, just like that. A filthy little moan, just for me to hear.” 

His fingers slipped back down only to come back up and hit your clit again, “Your pupils were so blown out by the time I came over to you. Something in them that **normal** people don’t have…Just people like us.” when he said _us_ the flush of desire was instant. 

It had you moaning again and you felt a tingle in your straining nipples, they were aching, begging for attention. 

He circled your clit, a shockwave of pleasure washed over you and had your hips jerk towards his hand. Hiccuping out a “Fu-uck…” 

His grip stilled your gyrating hips and kept the slow deliberate control, “It’s a darkness that sits behind it all. Most people wouldn’t notice it, but if you’re used to seeing it in the mirror? Well, you know how to look for it…and when it’s caught in the right light? Fuck, you don’t know how hot you looked.” 

Compliments always did something to you, but the way he praised you had the existing flush intensifying and you squirming in his palm. 

Your head rolled back to hit the hook that impaled you. The resounding pain just pulled another moan from your lips. At this point your brain couldn’t make a distinction between where pain ended and pleasure began, they were just a heady cocktail that played out the same— tears were falling from your eye with ease. 

_Fuck! He’s so fucking good…This is so dirty..but sooo good._ All that thought did was cause your clit to throb in excitement.

“I needed to capture that look. Good thing you were so obliging.” There was a pause before he continued, “Funny thing is you’re on the survivors’ side. Guess you’ve never actually taken the plunge then? You’re a real _good girl_ , huh? Might have to make you dirty.” As he said that he slid his fingers back through your folds and up to your clit again, your mind buzzed at the admission.

“You’re so fucking wet for me, Cupcake.” his open acknowledgment and the clear craving in his voice sent an ugly surge through your system. 

You didn’t want to admit that he was right— god was he fucking **right** , the desire to shy away from this part of you was quickly dying a brutal death if it meant he’d keep talking, keep touching. The need to have his fingers in you was all-consuming. You wanted them hard and deep— hitting something inside that you were _sure_ he’d be able to find. 

The hook kept pulling with your movements but it wasn’t a deterrent anymore. It just blended into the bliss pulsing through you. He held you steady and rubbed your clit a few more times. Fuck you were so close— just a little more and you’d be there. 

You could feel the shimmer of an orgasm on the precipice, muscles tightening in anticipation. 

So when he pulled his hand completely out from under your skirt and away from you the broken sob that wracked your body was worse than being impaled on this thing. 

The unbidden shout rolled off your tongue before you could stop it, “N-NO! D..Do-nt!” 

His hands rubbed your thighs— sobs still wracked your system, “Shh, I know you what you need.” He had your undivided attention— tears streaming down your face and all, “I’ll finger fuck you right now if you admit it. Admit that I’m right— that you’re just as much of a dark bastard as I am and then tell me what you want.”

You wanted it. Holy _shit_ did you want it…but if you said it if you acknowledged it out loud? It’d make it **real** in a sense that you weren’t sure you could handle. 

If it was just in your head no one else had to know, but if it was out in the open? Could you live with yourself like that?

“Tick-tock, you don’t have much more time before the entity comes to tear you apart.” You quickly decided you probably could. Something about him just **fit** — that it’d be ok if you said it to him.

“Y-yes! You-re…right ab-out me, ok?!” you were breathing hard, the hook throbbed more after the withdrawal of your pleasure haze. 

He hummed in approval, “And?” 

Funny how this was more difficult to voice than admitting you had dark warped tendencies, “I…Umm..u—mm…” his grip on your thighs tightened, swallowing thickly you gulped down a breath and stuttered out, “I…fuc-king **want** …you to do so mu-ch…anythi-ng…just tou-ch me…f-fing-ger me…whatever….p-please!” 

He slid both hands back under your skirt with a growl, “It wasn’t that hard was it? And don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone how _tainted_ you are. That’ll just be between us. Our dirty little secret.” 

When his hands slid back out a sob of disappointment shuddered through you, “Oh, don’t worry. I just want to make you into a pretty picture first.” 

He gripped the bottom of your skirt and tucked it into your waist hem. With how wet you were, there wasn’t a doubt in your mind the stain was noticeable. 

_He wants pictures of this?_ _God that’s so fucking nasty….he’s such a creep…ugh, but it’s so hot_ … Being on display like this, even though it was just the two of you left you feeling incredibly exposed and vulnerable, but in all the right ways. 

He snapped a pic then moved to grip your panties— with both hands pulled them down to mid-thigh and leaving them there. 

You blushed from the way you could feel a wet string spilled from your slick core to connect with your downed panties. You felt embarrassed, but he groaned at the sight, “You look so fucking **good** like this. I really do it for you, huh?” 

Wishing you could slip off this hook and show him what he really did for you had an irritated huff escaping, “Shu—t…UP!”

He was taking a picture of the scene as he said, “Keep talking like that and maybe I won’t fuck your little cunt with my fingers.” You moaned from the tingle that sent down your spine, nipples tightening, “Would be a shame though…you have such a cute little pussy.”

Still holding his camera up he reached out with the other hand and spread your lower lips. Face burning with a flush at what he was doing— the eroticism of his actions had the desired effect, you could feel yourself getting even wetter. 

Desperately you wanted more. More touch, more pleasure, more of his fingers **in** you, but the only thing you could do was to whine and squirm your hips. 

He speared a finger through your folds and got another picture, “Look at you, skirt up, panties down, letting me play with you however I like…Letting me take pictures and getting off on it too. You’re such a dirty little slut.” You moaned at his words, unable to deny it at this point. 

“It’s just for me though, isn’t it? This cunt knows who it belongs to, right?” He hadn’t even finished his sentences before you were rapidly nodding while stuttering out, “F-fuck, y-ess! Ju..just you!” almost as a reward, he dipped a finger inside. _Finally!_

He pulled out only to slam his finger back in. **Hard** , _deep_ , and **_everything_** you had wanted it to be. He kept with the slow pace while he got a snapshot here and there. “Such a good little cunt on such a bad girl.’‘ 

The wet noises were obscene— especially from just _one_ finger. You shouldn’t be this wet. It was insane how much this was getting you off. 

How much his praise was making it even better, only amplifying the nasty sounds of his finger slipping in and out of you, “You hear that? Taking it so good. Bet you want another one, huh?” That had you nodding reverently, “Alright.” and he was pushing in a second thick finger into you. 

_Fuck! The stretch is so good._ Eye rolling to the back of your head you didn’t care what he’d done or what he _was_ , you just wanted this to never stop. He scissored his fingers— the two opening you wide. 

You were sure he got shots of that, how could he _not?_ “You’re so damn pretty with my fingers in you like this. You like taking it deep like that?” He moved closer and your leg slipped between his. He pressed against you and _Holy_ ** _fuck_** _was he hard._

You couldn’t help yourself but push into it. He groaned and pressed back, “Fucking good girl.” Your insides fluttered at that. 

He felt so _thick_ as you rubbed against him more— you swore you felt him twitch, “That’s it, fuck, feel how hard you get me?.” He muffled a moan and you felt a flush of pleasure. 

Making him moan _for you_? A fresh wave of shivers ran across your skin.

“Wanna stretch this pussy around my cock…bet you’d let me fuck you right here, wouldn’t you? Out in the open where anyone could see?” Your walls tightened down around his fingers, “Yeah, you fucking would. Probably like it more that way. Shameless.” _God_ his dirty talk would be the end of you.

He scissored his fingers then curled them, hitting that _something_ inside you that had your hips moving and an unrestrained moan spilling from you, “A nasty little slut like you? Bet you’d let me cum inside too.” You clamped down around his fingers and moaned loud and long at that. 

_Ohh, oh fuck yesss I would._ That idea did something in your brain that had you almost over the edge. 

“Ohh you’re into creampies, too? The pictures I could get of **that**!” He rubbed against your leg and you pushed back against him as best you could, “My cum dripping out of your cute abused hole? Fuck…were doing that soon!” 

The groan he let out had you echoing a whine of eagerness. Having his cum fill you up and then run slowly out of you? God that sounded disgusting— and yet… _so_ fucking _good_.

Then his thumb reached up and ran over your clit, you gasped, body jerking from the shudder down your spine, your good arm reached up to grab the hook.

You needed something to hold onto and it was the only thing in reach. You started to push down on his upward thrust. 

Nails biting into the metal as he swept his thumb back around your clit again, “Is this what you wanted, Cupcake?”

He was looking up at you now, fingers hitting deep with that rough pace, “For me to have you cumming in the palm of my hand? Like a desperate little whore?” You groaned at the attention he was paying your clit— you were _so_ close, face flushed and breathing rapidly all you could do was nod. 

His fingers stopped their rhythm and you sobbed, he pressed against your clit, “I want to hear it.”

Choking out, “Fuc-k, Yesss!” Your enthusiastic answer had him resume his attention, but much more rapidly. 

You were a whining writhing mess. The obscenely sticky wet noises from every plunge of his fingers made you embarrassed by how loud it was, “Look at you….” He pulled his fingers out, shiny with your slick coating them, “so messy…so _filthy_ …” He shoved his fingers back in, “You’re so close. I can feel it with how your pussys squeezing me.” 

And you were, you were _right_ there. You just needed a little more. “When you cum, I want you to look me in the face.” His pace rapid, deep, hard— so _perfect_. 

You didn’t respond so he curled his fingers inside you, “Did you hear me, Cupcake? I fucking want to see that gaze of yours when you cum.” Quickly nodding with a groan you cried out as his fingers slammed into you down to the knuckle. 

“Don’t sto—o-p!” your broken little plea pulled a coo from him, “Oh baby, nothing could get me to stop right now. You’ve been so fucking good for me.” Your pussy clenched and back arching. 

“You’re fucking mine now.” his thrust getting harder as your whines went higher, “No one else would understand what you need like I do.” 

His thumb swirled tiny loops on your clit, you were panting, looking down watching him watch your pussy. “How sweetly fucked up you are. How filthily you need to be fucked. How much you _like it_ when things hurt.” Your breath stuttered you’d really forgotten you were strung up on a hook.

The pleasure coursing through you masking everything but what he was doing between your legs, “Fuck, just wait till it’s my cock in you. Imagine how dirty you’ll be then. You’re not fucking getting rid of me after this.” 

He roughly rocked his wrist into you, stretching, curling his fingers when he reached as deep as he could, “There you go, feel how good you stretch around my fingers.” 

Your eye pleading him to break you. Let you cum all over his hand like he’d promised. So _desperate_ to fall over that edge, he looked away from your pussy up to your face, even without seeing his eyes the feeling was intense.

You knew he was watching every little facial expression, every little twitch that was happening, “So sweet, so pretty, so _dirty_ , we’re going to have so much fun around here.” 

He picked up his speed and hammered down on your clit, "Now let me feel you **break** for me.” _That_ and the twist then curl of his fingers with the rapid swirl on your clit did it for you. 

Tumbling over the edge your vision went white. Your walls throbbing as searing hot heat flowed through your body, everything felt tight and then liquid all at once. Your orgasm burning through you— clamping down, spine straightening, and body convulsing in the most intense pleasure you’d known. 

He was whispering things to you, but you’d never be able to understand anything he said as your body spasmed in ecstasy. Your whole existence diminished down to the fluttering of your pussy around his fingers. You’d wanted to stay there as long as possible.

Once your vision came back into focus your body sagged. He was still slowly fingering you though the aftershocks. You never even heard the clicks of his camera. 

“Just in time…knew you wouldn’t disappoint me, Dollface.” Your eye opened to question what he’d meant when you felt multiple somethings pierce into. 

Tearing into your stomach— blood dripping, guts falling, more pain than anything you’d ever experienced. But just as suddenly, that was fading. Your vision too. A gentle thought of _Oh yeah, crab god_ drifted out of your awareness. 

You could feel the slow ascent as the being shifted you into the air. Body falling back onto the leg that pierced through you from behind. 

_So this is what dying feels like_? Everything was numb, no aches, no pains, just numbness. You were staring into the abyss of swirling inkiness. 

You didn’t feel frightened. You didn’t really feel anything. The echoes of the pleasure you’d just been wrapped up in, even those felt distant. 

Rolling your head to the side as you were almost consumed in the cloud you looked down. The sight you saw had your heart give one last thump before you were swallowed up.

Look up at you, Ghost Face’s had his mask slid up just enough to allow his gloved fingers that’d been in you into _his_ mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please dont judge me. I dont know where all that came from. It was Danny. Not me. 100% him.   
> Also I have a tumblr where you can interact. Same user name, lackingspace!


	4. Lucent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just local deranged smut writer back at it again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhh, well I hope you enjoy the meal!

Dying, well, it really wasn’t significant at all. Didn’t really feel any different than curling up and slowly slipping into an easy slumber.

In truth, it was a surprisingly forgettable experience. You’d thought it would have left more of a mark on you, some kind of trauma on your psyche. Cause a shift in your world views or something significant— but you were...fine. Just fine.

It wasn’t like you _forgot_ . No, uh uh, not at all, you remember _everything_ clearly. You knew you’d died. Could even still feel the ghost of the entity's pincers. You remembered peering into the deep black abyss. Remembered the way the hook was impaled into you. How the tendrils had reorganized your insides. And you _especially_ remembered Ghost Face. _God_ , you couldn’t forget that if you tried. Not that you’d want to. _That_ had been the best you’ve felt in a long time.

Clearly remembered the last thump of your heart…

It could be shock. That quiet voice inside you whispered it wasn’t. But you felt like this was something you _should_ have kind of a problem with. Like, you shouldn’t feel so blasé with this...right? But you could hear that place in you telling you it was fine. That you weren’t basic like most people.

But you still tried to rationalize— it was always a thing in books or movies. The whole ‘death experience’ was a big thing for a person to come to terms with, right? There was always that profound opinion on the experience of dying and suddenly waking up to realize that there was nothing waiting for you there but darkness….somehow, you just felt content with it. Didn’t mind it at all.

Although, seeing where you came from...maybe it did make sense. Still, you wondered what those other survivors' reactions to death were like. Did they have a hard time coming to terms at first? You were curious about what it was _supposed_ to feel like. 

You’d never cared to know what was considered ‘normal’ anyway. And thinking of your upbringing, different _was_ your normal. 

_Not really sure what that says about me, but oh well, whatever. Can't help it, I guess…_ With a shrug, you put it out of your mind. Wallowing in self-contemplation wouldn’t get you anywhere, so you got up off of the dirt for a second time, _Geez, I'm really making a habit of this._

Honestly though, dying might have been the best thing that's happened to you since all this began...a quick flash of a mask in your mind's eye had you rethinking that. _Ok, second best thing_ because you felt way better than before. Almost like you weren’t fucked up and stuck in some version of reality. Just a little sore.

Physically there were still aches, small jolts of pain with strained movement here and there, but overall nothing too intense. And Emotionally? You felt solid there too. 

When you looked yourself over the entity must have taken pity on you or heard your earlier plea because although the sling was still there, your arm felt significantly better. Peering in revealed the break looked like it had been set correctly if not fixed.

It still felt achy, stiff, but definitely _not_ broken, dislocated if you wanted to really be dramatic. When moving it there wasn’t any jarring pain— a good sign, just achiness. The sling was probably unnecessary, but being paranoid you decided to keep it on. Maybe the entity would decide to take back it's magical healing, who knows how this place worked.

Cosmetic injuries like cuts and bruises were still scattered on you. The massive gash running the length of your leg was still there too, but like your arm, it miraculously felt better. It looked scabbed, deeper bruising, and maybe an infection starting? but it really looked way worse than it felt. Didn’t feel fresh anymore.

If everything else was healed you hazard a guess that the cut running across your eye probably didn’t need the gauze covering it anymore. So after a moment's hesitation, you reached up, gently prodded and peeled it away. Slowly with baited breath, you poked around the area. 

There was pain, surprisingly more than you felt in your arm, but it wasn’t anything to write home about either. Blinking slowly and then rapidly, your vision in the eye finally came into focus. Blinking did cause some irritation to the scabby slice ran over your eyelid, but that paled in comparison to actually having depth perception again. 

_Alright, I’m sold, magical healing kicks ass._ Checking your hip, it wasn’t as healed as everything else— didn’t have fresh clots of blood though so that was a plus, the bruising around it was still extensive. That’d be easy to deal with though— you had bruising pretty much everywhere. Out of sight, out of mind.

Looking around the area you noticed the landscape was trees, tall grasses, shrubs, and the occasional log. With nothing better to do, you walked aimlessly for a bit until you caught a muffled conversation in the distance. The words were unclear, but it sounded like someone wasn’t very happy. 

You decided there wasn’t any harm in trudging your way towards it. After a few moments, the voices or one voice, in particular, became clear. Someone was angry, yelling, and also very English. _Guess the entity doesn’t discriminate against continents. Good to know, but damn, they don't care about who can hear them? People are weird._

“Where the fuck is the bloody wanker?!” there was a muffled response but you still weren’t close enough to grasp it.

Mr. drama queen rang out again, “What’d ya mean you ain’t know where the prick is?!” This time you’d walked close enough to catch the answer of a softer feminine voice, “we’re….well, she hasn’t come to the camp yet…” 

There was a beat of silence before the loud man barked, “Are you takin’ the piss? What the fuck does that mean?!” His voice growled, “Where the fuck else would she be?”

Finally pushing through some tall grass you stood silently at the edge of a clearing. The glow of a campfire cut through the fog, a few logs surrounding it, and a variety of people with it.

They were all scattered around— some in pairs sitting on the logs, others scattered just outside the log ring messing with a variety of odd items, there was even a woman sitting at a log riffling around inside a first-aid kit with a boy on the ground and his arm in her lap. He had a few gashes on his tricep. 

The culprit of the shouting had to be the man in a muscle shirt, pants, with wrapped knuckles. _Dude has to be some kind of fighter. No wonder he's so angry._ He was standing next to a petite woman, she must have been who he was arguing with.

You recognized her as one of the people who’d been in the trial with you. She wasn’t the one you watched get mutilated, but the other one you’d only gotten a glimpse of. She had a deep complexion and a gentle-looking countenance. 

“We left the trial a while ago, but she hasn’t shown up yet. Either the entity put her in another immediately or well, we’re not sure….” She answered the lumbering man and added with what sounded like pity, “You should have seen her, she wasn’t in good shape. The poor girl could be lost in the woods somewhere...But” 

The man scoffed, “Yer Wot?! We always pop back up right ‘ere.” After a second he must have finally processed what she’d said, “What’d you mean, ‘not good’ shape? That’s just our normal innit?” The woman shook her head, “She looked worse than us.” She continued before he could ask, “I didn’t get a great look, but she was banged up really bad. Covered in bandages. Our trial was with Ghost Face, and you know how that creep is. He could be drawing it out with a chase or something.” 

The man chuffed out annoyance in a swift exhale, “Oi, don't even get me started on that knob head.” The woman cut him off before he could continue on that train of thought, “Why do you want to know where she's at though?”

She shouldn’t have asked because the annoyance that had simmered down was back with a flair, “What is it, right, there was a fuckin’ trash new killer.” The woman gave him a look of pity. New killers were always the worst, “This new bloke is proper fucked. Big, scarier than my ma— and that's saying something.” He made a snort of exasperation, “Just bloody brutal.” 

A new woman walked up to the two, she’d been knelt down next to the fire. She had a slim build with a stylish fitted jacket, scarf, and what looked like some kind of recorder on her hip, “David’s right, Claudette, the new killer,” she made a grimace and shivered, “He...it’s something else.” Confusion was written all over Claudettes face, “That bad? Wait...It?”

David, cut in, “It's a guy mate, but tosser had a mad metal thing over ‘is ‘ead!” Claudette looked confused and concerned now. The other woman clarified, “Yeah, I’m not really sure. It was some kind of metal cage thing. Didn’t seem like a mask— was just a triangle-shaped cage thing for his head.” a frown overtook her features, “He's a literal giant too— was a good 9 to 10 feet tall if not more and uses a sword just as big.” she shuddered “and there were these giant beetle things. Don’t know if they're a new entity edition or his, but **god** were they really nasty.” she closed her eyes and shook her head, “It wasn’t a good trial for us.” 

You knew how much it _sucked_ to try and hide from pyramid head, but you didn’t feel that bad to be honest. You might have been able to choose the fucker that cut your hip, but no thanks, you were choosing for _you_ and it’d be pyramid head every time. Imagine if you’d chosen that weird creepy mannequin monster. _That_ made you shudder. 

Pyramid head was just big...at least he was slow— they wouldn’t get any sympathy from you. Besides, you knew how to deal with him well enough, so you’d be fine as long as he didn’t see you. He’d probably skin you alive if he got his grubby hands on you. 

Another man, well, just barely a man, late teens maybe? Walked over with his hands on his hips, “Ha, bad trial?! That's an understatement. I swore the Demogorgon would be the weirdest thing I’d ever see, but that guy really tried to take the cake.” He scratched the back of his head, “Where the hell does a guy like that even come from?!”

The unnamed woman shook her head, “Thanks for the input, Steve.” The boy jutted out a hip while gesturing with a hand, “Hey, I know you’re dying to know what pit he crawled out of too, Zarina!” 

She made a face that said he wasn’t wrong, but David cut back in, “Ye, I want to ask the new survivor what kinda prick she is to have _that_ come in with ‘er.” 

Claudette sighed, “David that's not...I doubt that was her choice. You know how it is…”

David huffed in aggravation, but didn’t argue, “Anyways, like I said, she was so messed up...Dwight told me he thought she was a new killer, but he and Meg just mistook all her injuries…”

Steve cut in, “Whoa, whoa, whoa, someone showed up in a trial already injured?” Claudette nodded and he continued, “Ok, how bad are we talking? Like, fresh off a hook bad or I fell down a flight of stairs trying to get away bad?”

Everyone gave him an incredulous look, one he returned with exasperation, “What?” Zarina spoke up, “Falling down stairs? That's just you, Steve.” you silently laughed, _That sounds like me the most though._

The woman you recognized as the one who’d been mutilated in front of you— what had Claudette call her, Meg? Stood up from the man she sat next to and came over to the little huddle, “Think I saw her the most out of all of us, and yeah, it was pretty bad. Honestly looked like the entity snatched her out of a crappy hospital.” she seemed to think a moment before recounting your state, “She looked like she belonged in one anyways. Literally everywhere was covered with bandages. Eye, arms, legs, lots of cuts, bruising— she looked as miserable as I felt.”

Zarina brought a hand up to her chin in thought, “Maybe the killer we saw had injured her before they were brought here. I don't think any of us had accidents before being brought here, so maybe it's possible to keep the injuries if you’ve already sustained them.” 

Steve was nodding, “Alright, I’m following.” Claudette worried her hands together, “Poor girl must be so confused. Having us run from her and the Ghost Face as her first killer? I feel so bad. I’d rather have someone like the Oni who’d just get the job done than deal with Ghost Face’s attitude.” They all collectively acknowledged their agreement with either a nod or grunt. _Well, he did say he was known as a bastard. Guess they really don't like him...Can't relate._

You’d stood there watching their whole interaction. None of the group had noticed you and looking around the clearing it didn’t seem like anyone else had either. Were these people all blind? They obviously didn’t care about conversation volume, but were they not alert either? Sure, you were pretty light-footed, but you’d definitely made _some_ noise when pushing through the weeds. 

If they were in a place where they were regularly hunted by murderers you’d think they’d be on edge and alert constantly. They were pretty unobservant, how many times had they been spied on and never noticed before? _This is good though, won't have to try very hard to cover up whatever's happening with Ghost Face._

Your thoughts moved over to thinking that maybe these people wouldn’t be the greatest teammates if you could slip in without anyone noticing. Of course, right then your eyes locked with the boy getting patched up by the girl with the medkit. _Maybe there's some hope still._ He wore a beanie, had a jacket that he’d have pulled half off. His most standout feature though was the deep bags under his eyes. 

He looked like around the age of Steve, probably late teens. _God that must have sucked getting sucked up while still in puberty. No chance to experience life outside teen drama. That's gotta suck majorly._

He had a curious expression as you sized him up. But it was nicer than the distrust that Meg had started you down with in the trial. His was open— welcoming even, almost warm. 

You figured the best thing to do was give him a slight smile, just a quick flicker of your lips up and a tilt of the head. He mirrored your expression while you turned your gaze back to the group as Zarina spoke up, "I wonder if the entity would have healed any of her previous injuries after the trail though." Claudette nodded, “Well, I hope it does...I can’t imagine walking around like she was.”

Meg nodded, "yeah, same, but you know it sometimes leaves us with injuries if we do bad. None of us told her what to do, so…." She left that sentence unfinished, but everyone knew what she was implying. 

David piped back up with a question, "Right, any of you lot want to give a look round for her?" Steve agreed and added, "Yeah, if you think she's still messed up I don't like the idea of her just wandering around lost. She could bump into a rando killer if ones lurking around." 

"I don't like the idea either, I’ll go too.'' Claudette fretted in a pensive tone, "But how are we supposed to know where she would have been dropped? If she's even out of the trial that is..." 

They were trying to come up with a plan when the boy who you’d just had your exchange with spoke up.

"Guys." Or he tried to, but they ignored him, "Hey, guys." Maybe he was just soft-spoken. Either way, they hadn’t heard him, so he tried again, "Guys, hey, Claudette? Steve?" 

Again they were talking amongst themselves— not paying attention and he looked bummed.

"Hey, you guys shut up! Quentin has something to say!" The girl with the medkit yelled out at the group. He looked up to her, “Thanks, Feng.” she looked down at him, “You’re welcome, Quenie.”

"Wow, rude Feng." Came from a disgruntled Steve, but they all listened, quieted, and turned to look at Quentin. He just raised a hand and pointed to you. Their gazes followed through and all eyes landed on you.

Looking between them all— even the few others who hadn't taken part in the conversation, you slowly raised a hand up and gave a small wave.

"Well, Zarina. You were right, she looks way better than before. Must have been healed a bit." It was Meg that broke the silence. “Doesn’t have the gauze on her eye and her leg doesn’t look like she kicked the oni’s knife anymore.”

" _That's_ better?!" That was an exasperated Steve.

"Steve! That's rude!" Followed by an appalled Claudette.

"Oi! Where the fuck ya come from with that mingin ass killer?" And a disgruntled David.

You didn’t really have an answer or one that you wanted to give, so instead, you just blinked and said, "Uh, hi, I guess".

Claudette spoke up before anyone else could, “David! Don’t ask that!” She quickly made her way over to you, “Hi I’m Claudette and I’m sure you're really confused about what happened and where you are.”

You weren’t, thanks to Ghost Face, but telling them that wasn’t an option so you just went along with it and looked confused and nodded. 

“Oh, you poor girl. Come sit by the fire, I’m sure you’re in pain.” Again, you weren’t— at least none that really bothered you, but you didn’t need them asking questions. So you just sniffled, gave her a watery smile, and nodded. 

You followed her towards the logs meanwhile everyone's eyes followed you. She brought you over to where the boy Quentin was and sat you down, “Feng, are there any more bandages left in there?”

Feng handed the kit over to Claudette, “A few.” Quentin still sat on the ground, looking up to you, “ I’m Quentin, what's your name?” You gave it to him, meanwhile, Steve plopped down next to you. “Cool, nice to meet you, I’m Steve.” 

You looked at him and he opened and closed his mouth then cleared his throat before, “Ah, well I don't mean to be rude, but how’d you get to be like that?” he gestured from head to toe. A shout of, “Steven!” came from a young-looking girl across the fire. 

He groaned, “Nance you know we all were thinking it, and besides, I said ‘not to be rude’ which makes it totally ok, right?” Quentin reached over and knocked a balled fist against Steve's shin. Claudette shook her head as she pulled a few new bandage rolls from the kit and apologized, “Excuse him, he sometimes doesn’t think before he speaks.”

You looked around at them and let out a huff of laughter— more air than anything. You kind of liked the kid, he reminded you of, well, yourself a little. So you’d cut him some slack with a half-truth as Claudette started cleaning up and bandaging your leg, “From what I remember, I was jumped by some random wacko and beat up. Kinda sucked.” 

A couple shocked faces, a few angry, and a few pitying ones. All their sympathy did was make you feel caged. Steve had a look of indignation, “Jesus Christ, what happened to common decency. I guess people are just creeps everywhere.” 

You shook your head, “It’s fine...well, it's _not_ fine, but I do feel better after…” You stopped from finishing that sentence because _no way_ could you say ‘having the hottest finger bang of my life and then dying.’ So, instead, you chose to play up the confusion and then settle on a grimace.

“Yeah, it's called a trial and no it doesn’t get any easier,” Quentin spoke up when you didn’t finish. Feng spoke up to correct him, “Hey now, it does get a little easier because we're prepared and know what to expect...The psychological stuff is what stays the same.” 

Zarina agreed, “She's right, knowing what you’re up against helps. Being sacrificed or moried still sucks every time though. I always need a few to sort it out in my head, so don't feel bad if it's in on replay constantly right now.” You could see everyone had a look of agreement on their face. 

_Alright, so everyone just had to collectively confirm my priorities are kinda different. Sweet._ After a second you processed what she’d said, “Moried?” 

Meg answered your question, “It's a killer thing”. At your confused look she just said, “We’ll explain it all don't worry.” 

And that's how the conversation carried on for the next half hour. They asked a few questions, especially David asking if you knew anything about the new killer. You gave some answers— some half-truths, some lies, saying you didn’t know anything about the new killer, but that he sounded terrifying. They explained what Ghost Face had already told you and a lot of things he hadn’t. 

It was a ton of information to take in, so you knew you hadn’t absorbed everything, but it was good to at least have a clearer picture of what was going on here. From their perspective too. Even if you still thought they were kind of overbearing.

A few people stepped out of some thick fog at the edge of the camp and a few that were sitting stood up and shared a look, checked themselves over before fog appeared and swallowed them. The newcomers to the circle introduced themselves, you did the same, and it was Steve that explained what just happened. 

“They got called to a trial, you’ll know when you feel it. Hope they all get out and stick it to the killer.” You absentmindedly nodded in agreement. That happened a few more times, people suddenly standing with a knowing look and then disappearing. 

Who went seemed totally random and when you asked Quentin had shrugged and said they didn’t know if there was a pattern so they went with random. It’d been a good while since you’d come here, maybe an hour? What was time anymore though? Staring into the forest surrounding the camp you swore you’d seen a few shadows passing here and there. 

Did killers roam around? It was probably a thing. You’d walked around out there before coming here, so why shouldn’t they? Maybe they could spawn in there too before going to wherever they usually were. 

Restlessness had started to take root in you. Wanting to move you got up and paced a bit. Steve and Quentin had been called to a trial a little ago, so Feng was the only one left sitting with you. 

“Hey...would it...is it fine if I go walk around in the woods over there a bit? I’m antsy and I just need…” When you didn’t finish she raised a brow, but a look of sympathy was written on her face. She thankfully supplied, “Need to process everything alone?” 

You gave her a grateful smile that she interpreted as understanding. You were just glad she gave you an excuse. The urge to walk around and stretch your legs _was_ there, so you weren’t exactly lying to her— and you _did_ want to be alone too, just not to process like she thought….

There was a gnawing in your head again. One that wanted you to get up and find your masked friend. These people were all so nice and accommodating— which was fine in general, but you needed to decompress after everything with Ghost Face. You couldn’t exactly moan about how great he’d felt between your legs or how easy the banter was with him to anyone here. They might try to hang you or something.

Really needed to either find him and fuck him or find a place you could relax by yourself. Maybe do some yoga or something. You needed to question yourself in silence on how moral ambiguity was _so_ easy for you. Psychoanalyzing yourself into an existential crisis and all that. 

The final nail so to speak was the sensation of being watched that’d come on about half an hour ago and you thought maybe... _hoped_ it could be Ghost Face...you didn’t really count on it, but the desire was still annoyingly there.

“Go for it girl, you can’t really get that far anyway. Not without walking into killer territory. You’ll know when you do. Just watch out for them and come back this way. They can attack you if you’re on their side, you’ll still end up respawning back here, but who wants to give those dicks a free kill?” 

You agreed with thanks and made your way into the woods once again. It didn’t take long before the quiet conversations and crackles of the fire were lost to the silence of nature. There were crows occasionally, but nothing else. No insects to fill the silence, no wind, no other sounds. The silence was so loud, but strangely it calmed you more than the fire and camp comradery. 

A sigh left you as you were finally able to relax and _breathe_. The woods here had thicker fog than what you’d seen before. The lighting was low, but you kept walking and looking around. There wasn't much variation in landmarks or anything that stood out. So you just aimlessly wandered around. 

The feeling of someone watching you was still there, but it wasn’t concerning. Even if it was some random killer who took an interest in you for whatever reason, they weren’t bothering you. And you were cool with leaving it that way. 

You stopped when you saw a glimmer of light shimmering through the trees ahead. It was an orangey glow, so definitely some kind of fire. The light was flickering off the trees in a soothing pattern that enticed your senses— drawing you in. Curious, you were about to go investigate when something covered your eyes. Or someone.

Going stiff the smell of leather and a metallic tang invaded your senses. Waiting was the only option you considered. Screaming was out, hitting the person probably wouldn’t be the smartest, and running was out too, you kind of didn’t remember which way you’d come from anyways. 

It was discernibly a pair of gloved hands covering you and that ignited the glimmer of hope that sat inside you. Their breathing had enough sound to let you know they were wearing a mask. And when they learned in the same crisp clean scent you’d smelt on Ghost Face overtook you. Maybe you were wrong, but that scent had you relaxing slightly.

He must have felt it somehow because he snickered, “Figured it out already? Or do you just find kidnapping situations comforting?”

 _Yep, definitely him_. A sound of disgust escaped you, “Of course I don't, who would?” 

“I don’t know, you seem like the type.” he had that mocking tone from before. You scoffed, "Yeah? And what types that?"

He removed his hands and turned you around, mask tilted as he regarded you, " **sociopaths**."

You stared up at him in silence and then, "Wow, sick burn, Dude. You really got me there. But I don't even think that's part of sociopath classification."

The smugness was clear in his voice, "You’d know wouldn’t you, cupcake." He let out a patronizing coo, "My _cute_ little sociopath."

The possessiveness shot a hot rush of arousal down your spine and satisfied that deep dark void inside you, “Mmhmm, well, what's that make you? My psychopath stalker?” He extended a hand to pat your cheek and agreed in that appealing deep voice, “Only when you’re good. Otherwise, I’ll be your psychopathic _murderer_.” 

You groaned, “Fuck, that _shouldn’t_ turn me on.” His hand dropped to grip behind your neck, “But it does, Cupcake, and that's what makes you special.” That filled you with satisfaction while giving him a smug look of your own, “Oh, I’m special now?” 

He gripped your neck tighter— thumb extending to press just under your jaw bone tilting your head to a deeper incline. He shuffled closer and spoke in a sinful chide, “Well, I don't finger just _anyone_ , I do have standards, Dollface.” You jutted out a lip and snarked, “What? Sociopath a requirement for you?”

He tilted his head, “Wasn’t before, but after you? It’s a prerequisite.” That sentiment had you both giddy and irritated. That you could affect him enough to change his preferences had your arousal growing. But the ‘After you’ didn’t sit right. Not at all. If he could be possessive, then you didn’t see why you couldn’t either. 

That dark void in you whispered viciously that, **‘** **_no,_ ** _there wasn’t an ‘_ **_after you’_ **, not one that he’d enjoy anyway. You’d make sure of that. He got you to admit something you never would have spoken aloud to anyone otherwise. He was probably just doing it for his own amusement to see you struggle, but he’d dug his own grave. There was no way you were letting the person with that knowledge go. 

He had said you were stuck with him, but he was the one stuck with you too. 

Those thoughts must have left you with some kind of look because he tutted at you antagonizingly, “Aw, how precious. She can get a little _jealous_ too? Cute.” he ignored your huff of annoyance, “Don’t worry, you’ll know if I get bored.” 

Needing to change the subject because he was way too smug for your liking, “Anyways, stalk much? How long have you been watching this time.” At your question, he released his hold on you to cross his arms and raise a hand to his mask as if he was mockingly thinking about it, “Hmm, let' see, about when you went to your new friends comfy little camp. Can’t believe they said I was the worst killer to get for a newbie. Talking shit behind my back. Unacceptable.” 

He shook his head and waved a hand, " I mean, look how much you enjoyed it.” 

A blush settled on your cheeks as you silently agreed. _Damn,_ he got you there and you _knew_ that watched feeling back at the fire had been him. He was nothing if not dedicated because he’d been watching for a while, “Bro, that had to be like a few hours ago. You don’t have another trial to get to?” 

He chuckled, “You’re one to talk. Maybe the entity wanted us to have some alone time and you were over there wasting it by trying to play nice. I’ll give you that it was kind of fun to watch though. Seeing how well you put on a little act to blend in with them.” His shoulders shook in a silent laugh, “How well you can lie about being clueless and scared when we both know you’d enjoy gutting them just as much as me. I give it a solid 7.5. Could work on your social skills. ” The flush brightened as you sputtered, “You...you...thats...I don't even know what to say to that.”

“Well, don't injure yourself trying to think of something.” annoyance spiked, “I really want to hit you right now, you asshole.” 

“That's sweet, Cupcake. But you'll have to get in line.” He ignored your threat in favor of pressing into your side, “Anyways, I have somewhere I want to show you.” Irritation still coursed in you, but you were curious, so cautiously you asked, “Show me what?”

He flicked your forehead before answering, “For our date, idiot. I said it could be arranged, so I did.” 

Startled, you made a good impression of a fish opening and closing your mouth before you came back to yourself, “What..that..how many people have you taken on dates here because that was fucking quick.” 

He scoffed and released you, “Oh, did you want lazy?” Pacing away while he grumbled, “Fine, I can leave you here and ignore you for a while if that's the kind of attitude you want to have Cupcake.”

You were flattered, he’d _actually_ followed through, that was rare. It didn’t matter that you were absolutely sure it couldn’t be anything nice. Definitely wouldn’t be taking you out to dinner. But you **hated** how much you liked that he’d already had something set up, “Oh my god, don't be so dramatic. I’m sorry, I’m just not used to the attention.”

The silence stretched as he regarded you and then he extended a hand, “Yeah, I’d be impressed with me too. So, what are you waiting for, come here.”

You squinted at his outstretched hand suspiciously. 

On one hand, you’d get pulled deeper into _whatever_ this was between the two of you if you listened. But did you really want to get led off to who knows where with him? Ok, that's a dumb question, because _yeah_ , you did. 

But on the other hand, maybe that wasn’t such a good thing if you wanted to fit in with your new buddies back at the fire.

Eh, who were you kidding, you didn’t care about any of them _or_ fitting in. 

_Well, It's not like he can kidnap me here…and murders already covered._

Your eyes traveled up his arm to his mask at the thought. You had no idea what this guy even looked like, but it honestly didn’t really matter that much. He just seemed to get you. His head tilted in question as you dropped your gaze back to his hand— he wiggled his fingers. 

So with a sigh, while shaking your head, you reached your hand out to him, “ _Fuck me_ , alright, I’ll bite— I mean I’ll go.”

Before you could reach his hand, he snatched your wrist and pulled you to his side. His arm made its home on your shoulder. With a snicker, he pulled you forward, “Now **_that's_ ** an idea, Cupcake.”

He whisked you two off into a different direction than what you'd been going, "You should really be thanking me." You looked up at him, "Oh?" 

"You were about to walk right into the cannibal's territory. He's a nice boy but would have had a field day with you. Couldn’t have that."

“Uhh...Like a real cannibal?” Murder you could deal with, but being eaten? That freaked you out. 

“You know a fake one?” His skepticism rang out clearly and you spoke through clenched teeth, “...Touché. I could be wrong, but don't think I’ve met one before.” He patted the shoulder he had a grip on, “I’m sure you’ll meet him soon. Not very talkative. Likes chainsaws.” 

That made you think, “Are most killers like you or is talking just your specialty?” He strummed his fingers along your arm, “Asking about _other_ killers on **_our_** date? It’s like you're trying to hurt my feelings, Cupcake.”

Rolling your eyes you poked his chest, “You’d have to have some to hurt in the first place.” There was an exaggerated gasp, “Now that's a party foul. I have feelings about a lot of things.”

“Uh-huh, here I’m sure I can count them all.” Lifting a hand you counted off on your fingers, “Stalking, voyeurism, stabbing, murder, sadism probably” tilting your chin up to gaze at his mask, “Did I miss any?” he exaggerated the tilt to his head in thought, “You forgot the chase, planning a murder, the story it can tell, writing” nodding with his additions— those seemed about right, the last one unexpected though. Writing? That was interesting. “Oh, and most importantly, me fucking your mom.”

You tripped and cursed as you tried to catch your footing, “Oh my **god** , Ghost Face! Are you fucking twelve? A mom joke? _Really?!_ ” He was laughing at your expense and tugged you even as you rolled your ankle on a twig, “You set it up, I’m just intelligent enough to capitalize on it.”

His grip was really pulling on your shoulder and now your ankle was irritated. Grumbling under your breath as you struggled to keep up, “I think you mean immature enough”. He tugged again and you crashed into his side while he hissed, “Wanna try that again, Cupcake?”

Steadying yourself against him while shaking your head, “Nah, but are you going to answer my actual question?” His hand crept back over to grip your shoulder and he echoed you mockingly, “Nah.” Clicking your tongue in vexation was the only response you gave him. 

Looking around the trees were becoming slowly less abundant and on the horizon, you could surprisingly see what looked like the shape of houses, “So...where are we going?” he kept the steady pace, "You'll see, not much longer now, don't worry."

You hummed in acknowledgment and decided to just stay quiet until you reached wherever he had planned.

The landscape drastically came to a change. Like you’d just walked into a suburban neighborhood. _That's probably what Feng meant. Killer territory, huh?_ Houses lined the block, each with nicely groomed gardens and lawns. Cars were parked here and there. You wondered if any of them worked. There was even a playground type area the two of you passed. 

Everything looked normal if not a little barren. You noticed all the houses were missing doors. An odd thing, but you weren't in the questioning mood. A few cop cars with their lights flashing sat in the middle of the street and added an interesting dynamic to the street lamp lighting. 

"What is this place?" Ghost face only acknowledged your question with a quick, “Not important” as he turned the both of you into one of the houses. Walking through where a front door _should_ be, he brought you into what looked like a living room. There was a roaring fire in a nice freestanding wall fireplace with a convenient comfy looking red couch situated across from it.

Hed let you go so you could look around and you were surprised at how cozy it all felt. Sure the wallpaper looked kinda aged and why the hell wasn’t there a door? But overall the atmosphere of the dark outside, the fire, and a loveseat couch— it was all strangely intimate. You had to wonder again if he did the kinda thing on the regular because damn did he just have this ready? it's actually kind of nice. Much nicer than you were expecting. 

Before you could voice your poisonous thought there was a yank on the back of your shirt and you felt yourself drop backward, flailing your arms wildley, you were sure he got a laugh out of it. Thankfully you landed on the couch, which had a nice bounce to it. “Hey!” yelping in distress you caught him in your periphery— he was already sitting at the other end legs man-spread with one arm on the back of the couch looking for all the world relaxed. 

He shushed you and pulled out a bottle of an amber liquid with an illegible label. 

“Is that what I think it is?” You marveled at the bottle. Alcohol? Was he carrying that the entire time? Where’d he even get it?

He gave it a little shake and smugly added, “Guess that depends on what's going on up in that noggin. If you guessed Bourbon you’d be right.”

Sass was a language you both spoke, so his didn’t phase you, “How’d you even get that? Is alcohol just laying around? Because I could have really used some of that when I woke up in the dirt.”

He unscrewed the cap slowly “Have to know where to get it, but I’m generous and willing to share.” He divulged in a way that screamed bragging. You **really** wanted a drink and you didn't even really _like_ alcohol. 

Especially not straight liquor, but holy shit you’d take it. The last time you’d even seen alcohol was back in normal reality and it was really anyone's guess how long ago that was. Absentmindedly you added, “Lucky me.”

He tilted the bottle towards you, “Lucky you is right.” you were leaning towards him to take it when you thought of something, “Wait, how are you going to drink some? Can you through the mask?” 

He let you take the bottle, “I’ll have some if you promise to be a good girl and not look.” you were running a finger around the rim as he said that. It had you flushing and muttering out an “mmhmm, I won't.” After a moment you threw caution to the wind and with as much sass as you could muster, “I mean if you're _shy_.”

You lifted the bottle and tried to prepare yourself for the taste. When the liquid hit your tongue you remembered why you hadn’t enjoyed alcohol, but the burn hit just right. Ghost Face growled at you, “Sure, call me shy. Just wait until I have you bent over taking it like a little _whore_. See who's shy then.” 

The bastard had waited until you were mid-swollow to say that. He _knew_ what he did. He must have been trying to kill you because you choked and sputtered on the alcohol, pulling the bottle away, some dribbling down your chin as you tried hard to swallow what you had in your mouth without spitting it out before coughing to clear your throat, “Dude what the fuck!” You wouldn’t acknowledge how that’d made your panties instantly damp.

He snatched the bottle back from you, “Yeah, you’ll be choking just like that too. Probably be just as messy and let it drip down your chin.” 

_Fuck. him. Fuck_ **_me_ ** _._ Groaning out at how his words sent a hot flush through your system and a dirty pulse right down to your core. Wiping your chin you fumed, “That was a dick move.” He held the bottle by the neck, “Yeah, and you fucking liked it. Probably already wet too. Doesn’t take much for a little slut like you.” 

How the _fuck_ did he know that? Was there some kind of sign on your forehead you didn’t know about? “Now be a good girl and look out the window.” 

You _hated_ him because there wasn’t even an ounce of resistance in you. Fucking _hated_ how good it felt to have him speak to you like that. Hated how _easy_ it was to do exactly what he wanted. Hated or loved. You weren’t really sure. It was a fine line after all.

You heard shuffling and the sound of the liquid sloshing around before he let out a groan that could only be described as auditory sex. It had you flushing with desire again. You gripped your skirt in hand as the temptation to look mounted. Find out what he looked like, what his hair looked like, _if_ he even had hair, what color it was. See his eyes. _God,_ you wanted to see his eyes. See if they were dark or light, how they glittered. Memorize his features and have them burned into your memory forever. 

You **_wanted_** that _so_ bad. You _wouldn’t_ of course because, _fuck_ if you weren’t what he called you— a _good girl_. You’d listen to what he said because it got you off in a way that probably wasn’t healthy— But you’d recently come to realize healthy didn’t seem to be such a big concern. You wanted to be _bad._ ** _Wished_** you could. Wanted nothing more at that moment than to sneak a peek at him. See his throat bob as he swallowed. Damn, that mental image sent shivers down your spine. 

Just as you were imagining that, you heard a snap from a leather-gloved hand, “Thinking too hard over there, Cupcake.” you looked back towards him and nothing was out of place. You’d missed your chance. _Damn_. He held the bottle back out, “Come over here if you want more.”

He didn’t have to entice you with alcohol for that, but it was an easy excuse. So you slide closer until you were nestled into his side. Taking the bottle you took a few deep swigs from it. The burn got easier the more you drank and soon you could feel the flush of alcohol through your system. The arousal you’d already felt amplified, you’d always been a horny drunk— you could feel yourself relax into him. The crackling fire was a nice view. 

On your 5th drink, you looked up to him, “You just want to get me drunk.” He was already looking down at you, “Nah, wouldn’t be any fun with you plastered.” His hand on the back of the couch slid down into your hair, “Closest we’ll get to going out for drinks.” His hand threaded through your locks, “Besides, I don't have to get you drunk for you to let me do whatever I want to you.” 

You squeezed the bottle and pouted while grumbling, “True, but you don't have to sound so smug about it.” He snickered in agreement, “I don't _have_ to, but I **want** to.”

Taking another sip after feeling your heart pickup and the hot flush pulse straight through you settling in your core. You needed to stop drinking soon. You were a lightweight and you could already feel yourself getting pretty tipsy. So you lifted the bottle for him to take, which he did. 

You went to turn away, but he used the hand still tangled in your hair to hold you still, “I didn’t say for you to move.” you looked at him confused, “I thought you di-” he cut you off and used the hand in your hair to direct your face into his chest. “Just keep your eyes down.” his hand never left your hair. 

More rustling and another deep groan that did things to your insides and had you squirming in your seat. He had no right, _absolutely_ **_no_ ** _right_ to sound that good. He already made you feel hot on the regular, but mix in the alcohol, and now the sounds? Not to mention his mouth. You might as well just die in his lap. _He’d probably like that._ It had arousal coursing through you like it was your lifeblood. Your nipples were already stiff and begging for attention. 

“Am I gonna have to tie you down? All that squirming.” With your filter lowered from the alcohol you didn’t even think about stopping the moan from escaping you at the threat. He snickered, “Yeah, you would like the idea of that.” You weren’t gonna argue at this point, you just shrugged. 

You felt him release his grip on your hair to smooth it down and settle back into the couch, “So tell me, Cupcake, where are you from. Actually what year is it for you?” That was an odd question, “I’m from a town in West Virginia called Silent Hill. And the year? Why do you need that?” He just made a motion with the hand holding the bottle, “Humor me.” you had to think for a second. What year had it been? “Uh, well it was 2013 last I checked.” 

The hand in your hair made its way down to the back of your neck, “Nice, we’re from relatively the same time period.” Your head shot up at that, “What? There's different time periods here?” He just nodded, “Yeah, it's a clusterfuck. Lots of 80's but it's really all over the place. You’re just a few years ahead of me though. I could still hunt you down if we somehow, unfortunately, get out of this thing.” you couldn’t say that you didn’t like the idea that he could find you even back home. 

“Now that's out of the way, how come you haven’t done **_it_ ** yet?” You stiffened at his question. Thank god he’d plied you with alcohol, you'd probably have shut down and avoided this hard otherwise. You knew exactly what he was asking. Why you hadn’t _killed_ yet. “I...It...I just..” you weren’t sure what exactly to say. You just hadn’t. The opportunity was usually inconvenient and your job kept you busy. 

There were times you’d had to fight yourself to **not** do it though. There were some people that made it _so_ tempting to give in. But you’d won against the urges each time. He somehow made you feel like you’d _lost_. Like you should have done it. “You really are too much of a good girl, huh? Need to kill that small conscience of yours instead.” The acidic way it rolled off his tongue didn’t seem like praise this time.

The alcohol coursing through your system wanted you to quickly correct that. “No, my conscience doesn’t mind. I..I think about it a lot. I came really close once. I was _right_ there.” The way you’d said it sounded like you were grieving a loss. You guessed in some weird way, you were. 

Reaching up for the bottle and he let you take it. As you chugged a healthy gulp you felt the hand that the back of your neck dropped to your waist. “Oh? What stopped you?” 

You relished the burn in your throat before handing him the bottle and deciding that was your last. No more or you’d be on the sloppy side of tipsy, “My job.” his hand on your waist tightened, “And what jobs that?” You looked up to his mask, “I'm an aerialist for Cirque Du Soleil shows.” That caught his attention, “Oh, so she's flexible.” You snorted like you hadn’t heard that before. “How’d that stop you?” 

You found a loose thread on your skirt and zeroed in on it, “Usually it keeps me too busy...but once when we were on tour, well, it was the closest I’d come. We're usually international and most of the time we stay in that country for about a month or two depending— a perfect setup.” You moved on to picking at your nails, “There was someone there that I ran into consistently when I went off exploring the city.” You felt Ghost Face’s hand slip under your shirt to grip at your bare waist. The feel of his leather against your skin had your nerves light up. It was only your waist, but somehow it was like a livewire straight to your core. You were back to squirming in your seat. “I’m not gonna describe the person, they’re not important.” His silence said _go on_ as he squeezed your side.

“We got to know each other and I just...Something about them made me...It was the way they moved, maybe? I think? I don't know...I just,” You were squirming with arousal remembering what you’d felt back then, “I couldn’t get it out of my head. _Needed_ to have it. **Needed** whatever it was inside them.” He lifted you up onto his lap, your back to his chest, his thigh splitting between yours. _Fuck,_ he felt so solid, so _good_ under you. 

“Yeah? Needed it bad?” His hand on your waist dropped to grip your hip and direct your movement. Your head fell back against his shoulder. His other hand reached up under your shirt to squeeze your cleavage through your bra.

You kept moaning out as he dragged your hips across his thigh, “I knew what I wanted to do to them. What I wanted to make them _look_ like. I thought about it. _God,_ I thought about it so much.” he reached under your bra to give a quick squeeze and then pinched your aching nipple. 

You hissed out a moan, your panties drenched and your breathing was out of control, “Did you get off thinking about what it’d feel like to _finally_ do it? Finally, **kill** them?” He pushed his thigh up into your core, rocking just right and it hit your clit so good. 

You cried out at the feeling and then at the question, “Yes. Fuck, yes I did. It was so good. _Ohh,_ you’re **_so_** _good..._ I’d get _so_ wet thinking about it.” His hand switched to your neglected breast, “Yeah? Like how your cunts **drenching** my thigh right now?” 

Rapidly nodded was all you could manage through your moans, but he quickly admonished you, “Ah ah, I want you to say it.” He rocked your hips hard and your clit caught against the pattern of his leather and _shit_ , it had you moaning out, “Yeah, had my pussy wet like now.” he cooed at you, “Good girl, dirty fucking girl. Keep going.” 

A shuddering breath left you as he quickened the rocking of your hips, “I had a plan. Ev—erything set. _Ahh,_ fuck that's, oh god” You moaned into his neck and then whispered, “I was _right_ there, I could almost taste it. It was so exhilarating. They had no id-idea, _ahh_ , _Ghost Face_ , _fu-uck_..no idea I was even a threat. They just thought I wanted to fuck.” 

He chuckled at that, “They wouldn’t have been able to satisfy your whore cunt anyways. Not like this can.” you groaned and whined your agreement into his neck before continuing, “Just before I was a-about to g—go through with my plan my j—ob ended our tour early. There was some kind of permit issues suddenly and we were being... _Oh_ _fuck_ , please, please, please…” You were a begging mess and you didn’t even care how desperate you sounded. He continued to alternate between your breast, teasing your nipples with the feel of the leather. Grinding you roughly onto his thigh, “Keep going, Cupcake.”

Your mind was hazy, you could barely think with what he was doing, where had you been? Oh right, “W-we were being relocated to the ne—xt country effective im-immediately. I probably could have still gone through with it...but it was _ruined_. Didn't have the same appeal.”

Ghost Face had pushed your bra fully out of the way and was playing with your tits freely while his grip on your hip still dictated your pace. “I get it babe, Has to be on _your_ terms.” He stilled your hips and you whined, “Please, please Ghost Face, **_please_ ** don't stop.” He had you whimpering with how bad you wanted to keep rocking on his thigh, “Describe what you wanted to do. Tell me all the disgusting delicious details and I’ll let you cum all over my thigh.” The hand playing with your breast slid up to grip your throat, “Fuck, yes totally...god that's _so_ hot. You...oh _fuck_ right there.” 

He’d started rocking your hips and gripped your throat tighter, “ _Fuck_! It wasn’t anything exciting. I’d been back to their ap-partment plenty of times. Knew the lay out-t, knew wh-where they kept the kn-ives.” he hummed in appreciation, “Using a knife? After my own heart.” you leaned back into him more and felt something rock hard brush up against your ass. 

The hiss he let out was masked by the lewd sound from you when you realized how hard he was. You pushed your ass against him as you continued to grind, “Yeah, there was a k-knife of theirs I liked...fuck, _ohhh_ keep doing that, please! ...It had these pr-pretty swirling engravings... **Ahh** ! You feel _so_ good.” He groaned as you dragged against him hard, “I had a li-little evening planned...ohhh Ghost Face, _you feel so fucking good_ ….with them. We’d have dinner, watch a movie” You had a shaky intake of breath at how your rocking was putting delicious pressure against your clit, “And I could never exactly decide on wh-which way I wanted to do it. I had t-two I lik—ed. So I kept the knife on my th-thigh under m-y skirt.” 

He fully pulled you back against him while bunching your skirt around your waist and pushing your ruined panties to the side. The feel of leather on your bare pussy had you shaking in a sob. It rubbed against you in all the right ways. Grinding you roughly on his hardon while his hand still gripped your throat. “Yeah? Tell me what you wanted to do to them. Tell me what my filthy Cupcake wanted” you groaned at how sexy his voice was. Fuck, he was completely wrecking you. 

It was so good. _Fuck he gets me so hot,_ “ I could never decide if I wanted to slit their throat on the co-couch. Deep eno—ugh to cut their vocal cords, so they couldn’t ss-scream while I looked for what made them tick. Take what I wanted from inside. Or tie them to the bed gagged and play with stabbing them— feel the fight die in them. Then take what I wanted.” 

He groaned next to your ear and ground against you hard, “You're so fucking cute— playing with your food. Which made you cum harder?” Groaning you tried to think, “The couch one….oh _god_ right there, please!” groaning into his neck he helped you move rapidly against him, “You’re gonna fucking cum on my lap and then you’re gonna clean it up, understand?” 

Reverently rocking against him you cried out, “Yes! Fuck yes! Please!” The idea of cleaning your cum off his leather and then hopefully have him fuck your throat had you whimpering and squirming wildly. You wanted anything he was willing to give. He groaned in your ear, “You’re so fucking filthy telling me about a murder you were _planning_. I fucking love it. Such a nasty filthy little slut for me.” 

Sobbing all you could do was grind harder against him, “Say it.” You sucked in a shaky breath, “ _Fuck_ , I’m ohhh, I’m a filthy slut for you Ghost Face!” he growled in your ear, “That’s fucking right you are. If I was in that little scenario, I’d let you slit their throat and have you sit on my cock as they bled out.” 

You pushed back against him and moaned loud and hard, “Have you moaning just like that. spread you open so they could see your pretty pussy stretched around me while they couldn’t do anything but watch. They'd hear how fucking wet your cunt is for me, watch as I pounded you and how you’d take it” He rocked up against, “Take it like the good fucking girl you are.” 

You were sobbing with how much you needed to cum. The alcohol was making everything so much more intense. You were almost there, just a little more and you’d cum all over him. In a breathy sob you whimpered, “Yes...yes! I’d be **_so_** good for you!” pushing you roughly against his leg while his hand that was around your throat slid up to your lips. 

Instantly you opened your mouth to let two of his fingers in. The leather felt so good against your tongue as he spread them around and played with your mouth, “Then fucking do it, you whore. Show me I own this cunt and cum.” You cried around the digits in your mouth as your clit caught against his pants again and sent your orgasm shattering through you. Your eyes rolled in the back of your head and your back arched away from him. With your blood rushing in your ears you never even heard the snap of his camera. 

He let you continue to slowly grind against him as you sobbed around his fingers in your come down. After a moment you went flaccid against him and he pulled his fingers out of your mouth. You felt so good. More fulfilled than you ever had before. His hands were soothing up and down your sides helping you come back to yourself. 

His soft whispers of how good you were, how dirty you were for him drifted into your awareness at the same time that his rock solid cock pressed against your ass. Getting your breath under control while he caressed your waist. Taking a deep breath you let it out and slid yourself down his lap to the floor. Turning to kneel between his thighs you looked up at him. His arm had made its way back up over the couch and you could see the stiff bulge in his pants. His other hand reached out and gripped your chin, “Look at that, I don’t even have to tell you twice.” 

You looked up at him pathetically, God you wished you could see his face or even just his eyes, “I want it. Please...please, let me do it? I **want** to do it.” you were gripping his knees looking at him desperately. You really wanted to make him moan just as much as he’d made you. His thumb brush your bottom lip, “Of course you fucking do. Clean up the mess you made then, Cupcake.” 

As soon as the permission left his mouth you were on him dragging your tongue up his thigh. The leather was slippery with the taste of your own cum making it tangy against your pallet. Your eyes closed as you moaned against him. You obediently worked your way up the thigh you’d ridden as you felt his hand smooth through your hair. When you heard a click your eyes shot up to him. 

He had his camera out one hand holding your hair back the other taking pictures, “Stick your tongue out for me.” You did as he asked, tongue sitting against his leather-clad thigh, “now drag it up nice and slow.” You kept staring into the camera all the while. “That’s it. Now keep going” You did until there was nothing left on his thigh.

Leaning into him more you licked all the way up to his straining cock between his legs. Moaning, you licked around the area making sure to graze your check against his straining cock on every pass. He groaned and gripped your hair in a tight fist, “You’re such a cock tease”.

He pushed your face against his clothed cock and had you rub against it until he pulled your head up suddenly, “Here's what's going to happen, Cupcake. You're going to take my cock out, _play_ with it some, and then I’m going to **fuck** your face. Sound good?” Your eyes fluttered. That's _exactly_ what you’d wanted. Even though you’d come less than 5 minutes ago— you were ready for another one. 

You sounded so desperate in your answer, “Sounds _so_ fucking perfect.” Without waiting for a response you went to reach down, but his grip yanked your head back, pulling your eyes back up to him, “No touching that pussy unless I tell you to.” 

You pouted up at him, _that_ was going to suck. You were going to get inconveniently wet from this. Oral was something you actually _enjoyed_ doing. But you wanted to be good for him. Just had to keep your hands on him instead. Once you finally nodded he finally released you, “Get to it then.” He leaned back into the couch watching as you dove down to release him.

You pulled him out of his pants and _fuck_ he looked delicious. 

He was definitely above average in height, thick, and the head was an angry swollen purple red. He looked so fucking good. Precome already dripping from the tip. Unconsciously licking your lips you smeared the tip across your lips and then both cheeks before bringing him back to your lips and giving the tip a lick with the flat of your tongue. The moan he let out had your pussy clenching around nothing. 

You looked up as you gave him a few kitten licks and he was looking down, watching you, taking a few pictures. _You_ made him moan like that and it was so fucking satisfying. 

When you took the tip in your mouth and flattened your tongue against him you felt a hand settle on the back of your head. You released the tip and went to the base of him— rubbing your cheek against him you then placed an open mouth kiss to the base. Giving it a slight suck you felt the hand run through your hair as he groaned out. 

You could feel yourself getting wet enough that some was slipping down your thigh. Flattening your tongue against the underside you dragged up against the vein running up to the tip— he let out a rich moan that ended with a groaned, “ _F-fuck.”_ . Giving his frenulum a few licks you looked up as you felt the hand tighten in your hair. His head was thrown back against the couch and his breathing was labored. _You’d_ done _that_. Another rush shot down your spine making you slicker. 

You wrapped your lips around the tip again and tongued the opening. He gasped as you circled your tongue around his pulsing tip. His hand moved deeper into your hair as you took a little more in and slowly gave a good suck, hands working his base, “Fuck— look at you..so good”. 

Lavishing the frenulum at his praise before you sank him down until he hit the back of your throat. He choked out a groan, “Feels so-o good, Cupcake”. The silky feeling of him felt so damn _good_ against the roof of your mouth. You hummed in appreciation and his hand gripping your hair tightened. 

Both hands were working his base as you bobbed back to the tip. Giving one more lick to the tip you opened your jaw wider and took him all the way down to the base, swallowing around him. “ _Fu-uck_ —” His hand gripped your hair in a fist now as he held you down, “ _Fucking_ little cockslut” He groaned, “Your mouth is so fucking _good_.” your pussy clenched again and there was a pulse in your clit at his words. Swallowing around him again before you bobbed back up to the tip. You set a manageable pace with your hands working his base while you bobbed up and down. He was rasping out groans regularly now. He’d let you set the pace until now, but his grip on your hair was now directing your moment. “Your dirty mouth is so fucking good.” 

He was roughly shoving you up and down his shaft, “You were fucking made to suck my cock like this.” You moaned against him and swallowed around him when he shoved down your throat, “This w-what you needed, isn’t it? My cock stuffed down your _fucking_ throat!” You swallowed again and his hips jerked up against you. 

He snarls down at you, “ _Shit_ , you fucking slut.” He pulled you up and shoved you back down, “ _Pretty_ fucking girl. T-taking it s-so good. All _fucking_ **mine**.” His voice was just as rough as his movement. Tears were running down your cheeks from the burn of him in your throat. It felt so good to have him like this, everything he was doing, how rough he was, have him call you _his_. 

You had to grip his thighs to stop your hands from moving into your panties. Your hips had started bucking uncontrollable— looking for some kind of relief. He rasped at you in a straining voice, “You’re so f-fucking _pretty_ with **my** cock in your m-mouth.” you moaned as best you could around his quick pace, “I’m gonna c-cum all over your _pretty_ little fucking f-face!” he suddenly ripped you off and started to vigorously stroke himself over you. 

Without him asking you’d already had your mouth open tongue out waiting— _whining_ for it, “F-fuck! You’re so fu-cking—” before he could finish that sentence you felt a spurt against your cheek— a thick rope running over your nose and eye. Another spurt on your other cheek before his tip was suddenly against your tongue filling your mouth with the last few spurts. You sat there moaning at the salty tang in your mouth, but not swallowing— hips still squirming in arousal. You heard his heavy breathing before you heard the telltale sound of his camera. 

“Open your fucking eyes and look at me.” You did as asked and could see his cum strung between your upper and lower lashes on the left. Looking at him you saw him taking pictures, “ _Shit_ , you look **so** good covered in my cum.” You brought your hand up to your open mouth and dipped your fingers in the cum. Spreading your fingers around in it you heard him hiss on his inhale. 

Some of his cum dripped out of your mouth, rolled down your chin to drop down your throat. You looked at him through fluttering lashes, playing with his cum in your mouth, while your hips were still rolling, “What’d I tell you earlier? So fucking messy.” He groaned when you let more spill out, some running down your hand now too, “ _Shit_! Fucking swallow it you cumslut.” Making a show of it you tipped your head back, swallowed hard, and opened your mouth back up to show him. 

He reached out and gripped your chin— swiping up some of the cum that’d spilled out he pushed his thumb into your mouth. You swiped your tongue against his glove and cleaned it off while staring up at him, “Get on the fucking couch, face down, ass in the air.” 

You let go of his thumb, “Wha—” He cut you off, “Shut up and do it!” So you did, his cum still on your cheek smearing against the fabric, “Keep your fucking eyes closed and face down or I stop.” You were about to question him when you felt his hands pull down your panties and a second later a hot, _so_ hot tongue licked a strip through your folds. 

“Knew you’d get so fucking wet from blowing me. I wanted a taste.” you cried out “ _Ohh fuck_ ” your back stiffening at the sensation. You pushed your hips back as you shoved your face into the cushions. “That’s right, needy girl. I got you.” His hands slipped up the backs of your thighs as he dragged his tongue over you again. 

He lapped at you like a starved man and you whimpered. He circled your clit and then sucked it between plush lips. _Fuck,_ his lips felt so damn amazing! You couldn’t keep the whining sobs from escaping you as you ground back against his face, “ _Oh!_ Fuck, Ghost Face, _gmmhh!”_. You could feel a slight stubble along his jaw scraping against you every so often. And holy shit did knowing that hit just right. 

He slipped a finger in while he kept giving attention to your clit. You shuddered a sob and balled a fist. He was fucking wrecking you. He slipped a second on in and scissored them. Your hips kept pushing back against him as he licked through your folds. You weren’t going to last, you’d been so wound up from the face fucking and now he was eating you like a messy peach with his fingers fucking into you? You could feel it rise up in you. Your voice coming out in a higher pitch with a string of 

“Please- Please- Please- Please!” and he gave a harsh suck to your clit while tonguing it roughly with his fingers hooked inside you— sent you over the edge. You cum in a needy cry and could faintly hear yourself chanting, “Ghost Face, oh Ghost Face”. You were trembling and could feel the aftershocks rolling through you before he slowly pulled away. 

You could hear him shuffling around but you couldn’t even move if you’d wanted to. The man had killed you. Murdered you with an orgasm. So when you felt his hands moving you there was no resistance. He settled you back into his side with one of your legs over his lap. You were trying to find yourself in the pleasure haze still in your brain. You could feel him playing with your hair, but you didn’t feel your eyes closing. There was just a relaxed sigh— you or him? You couldn’t remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, Danny has me being nasty. I'm not really sorry.  
> lackingspace.tumblr.com


	5. Debased

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Take some soft Danny. Also, just something nasty.

You felt yourself floating in that comfortable space just on the edge of a dream. Drifting in relaxation with no thoughts or concerns. Which for you, was a nice change from the usual nonstop stream of unbidden or conflicting thoughts. Bathed in a comfortable weightless almost as if you were floating gently towards true unconsciousness, but couldn’t quite get there. It was a comfortable drift rudely interrupted by an unpleasant jolt course through your system. 

It felt like someone had dipped their fingers inside your brain and dragged against your skull. That was upsetting enough, but there was a follow up of what felt like invisible strings attached throughout your skeleton and whatever controlled them had decided to  _ pull _ . Almost like a strange life-sized marionette.

Jerking back into consciousness was disorienting-- who wouldn’t be after that? Gasping as the echoes of that jerk still rattled your brain. Trying to sit up, panic enveloped your senses when you couldn’t move. Blinking rapidly, your vision focused as you frantically looked around and just as quickly you relaxed-- you were still on the couch, locked in Ghostface’s embrace. 

You calmed further as everything came back to you-- vaguely recalled him moving you after eating you out like his life was on the line.  _ Mine definitely had been _ . Not really the thought you needed, but it was what came through. As you gauged your surroundings you noticed you must have been moving a bit while you were passed out because instead of being tucked into his side, like you remembered, you were basically laying half on top of him. 

Both your legs were pulled up haphazardly one up near his shoulder and the other half resting against his side and half on the arm of the couch. You were laying over one of his arms with your torso angled away into the cushion while he was leaning in towards you-- odd, but still somehow comfortable. The arm you were laying on wrapped around to hold your waist while his free hand was rubbing up and down your back soothingly. Had he been watching you this whole time? Probably, it shouldn’t be surprising. 

Groaning you managed to ask, “How long was I out?” you felt the hand rubbing your back slowed to a stop until it lowered to join the other around your middle-- settling you into his arm he answered, “Not long, maybe half an hour. I really took it outta you, huh? Passed out almost instantly, cute.” A flush took over your features, but before you could speak that same sensation of scraping in your brain started again. Face scrunching up in discomfort a groan escaped you. 

It was a strange feeling, familiar-- similar to an urge, almost a compulsion. Just like in the trial where you’d  _ needed _ to move, but this one was less somehow-- a glaring warning rather than a need. Ghostface answered your unvoiced question with a relaxed tone, “You’re being called to a trial.”

Face still scrunched, “That's what this is? How can you tell?” He smoothed a hand up to rub at the back of your neck, and surprisingly? It helped ease the feeling somewhat, “Killers get some extra perks. It’s just a kind of  _ knowing _ .” It was more or less disconcerting. The feeling that is, not exactly painful, just really uncomfortable. Like if you were ever curious what a phantom spider would have felt like crawling against the inside of your skull, well you could check that off your bucket list. “ That’s handy for you, I guess.”

“You probably have about five or ten minutes before you get swallowed up.” With a shake you tried to ignore the sensation, “well, this is gonna suck....you’re not my killer, right?” he adjusted your positions again, tightening the hand at your waist-- pulling you closer while leaning in closer. If he’d wanted to lay you flat on the couch you’d have let him, he could pretty much direct you, however, he’d like at this point. Staring up you realized you wished he wasn’t wearing the mask. He would have been close enough for you to really study his features. Probably would have been able to give a sketch artist a great description down to freckle placement, if he had any.

“Of course I’m  _ your _ killer, sugarplum.”  _ New nickname? _ His hand stopped massaging your neck as you thought that and lowered back to join his other around your waist again, “I’m your  **only** killer. Just not  _ the _ killer in this trial.” How did he know exactly what to say to make you blush? Arousal shouldn’t be physically possible after the two orgasms you’d had less than an hour ago, but somehow that admission from him had it lightly pulsing through you. 

There was no way you’d tell him that though, but the dumb dopey smile plastered on your face was probably a huge giveaway. How could you not smile though? Not when he said something like _ that _ . And, damn you just noticed how relaxed he sounded. 

Even his banter was more playful and less sarcastic. Like he was so relaxed he didn't feel like putting in the effort to be a smart ass and honestly that was kinda sexy. Because fuck, it had to have been your mouth that’d done  _ that _ to him, right? Brained him so good he was being soft as hell with you? God, you hoped so. 

“Besides, you get to work on blending in with the normies.”  _ That _ made your smile loosen. You weren’t looking forward to it. They all seemed nice and everything, but it took effort once they really started asking questions and you’d need to slip the mask of friendliness back in place.  _ Just have to think of it like work-- one of my performances. An act.  _

An act you weren’t getting paid for  _ and _ seemed like you’d have to keep up nonstop for all eternity. Or as long as the entity decided to keep you. And that wasn’t a comforting thought. A never-ending act sounded  _ exhausting _ . At least in reality you’d get a break. Could hide away in your room for a few hours.

Focusing back to Ghostfaces’s mask the corners of your mouth upturned. At least you’d found somewhere you could drop the act here. Drop all the acts you’d ever put on- even for yourself. That was something you’d never had, something you’d always wanted but never expected to find. You could embrace all of your dark wants and needs with him-- encouraged and satisfied.

Just that thought made a nameless  _ want _ rise up in you so bad. Want for him. Want to stay like this, at least for a while. Have him any which way, in  _ every  _ way. Sarcastic and rough, soft and sweet, stabby-- whichever, just as long as he was focused on you. And the desire to see his face was overwhelming- more than a want. But you’d settle with the  _ need _ for a kiss. 

He was always making the advances and maybe he liked it that way, but you wanted to initiate this time. And you hoped he wouldn’t refuse you on principle. So you moved in closer to him, bringing your hands up to loosely rest over his shoulders. 

You knew you had his attention when his wrists tightened in around you. Funny how you were so comfortable with him to admit the worst about yourself, but wanting to ask for a kiss made you sweat. You’d been explicitly nasty with the man, but butterflies were still fluttering through your veins in anticipation. 

If you were going to do it, it had to be now because you could feel that warning prodding getting sharper in your skull. Steeling yourself and with a deep breath you looked up to his mask that was intently watching. 

Pursing your lips you started, “Could I..” That wasn’t right, “rather, would you…” again you cut yourself off and looked down because that didn’t feel right either and  _ god _ you were blowing this. His thumbs brushed against your waist, “What is it, cupcake?” Fuck, his voice was sexy. It sent a fresh wave of nervousness through you,  _ fuck it, _ “Could I maybe...Can I have a kiss?”

You felt his shoulders shake in a silent laugh, “That's what you had trouble asking? I’ve had my tongue in your cunt and my dick shoved down your throat, but you're nervous to ask for a kiss?” you instantly went rigid and looked down in embarrassment as you mumbled, “well, when you put it like that..” 

"God, you’re cute.” He chuckled this time and stretched some while shifting you in his arms, “Relax, babe. Of course I'll kiss you." Your head shot up at that, "You will?" He gave a nod, "yeah, I'll be the only one kissing you from now on." Before you could say anything to that he leaned down and pressed the mask against your cheek. 

Your face instantly fell and you felt like an idiot,  _ Of course _ , "That's not exactly what I meant..." he just chuckled, "Yeah, I know. Teasing you is just so much fun though." You pouted as he continued, " It’s really your fault for having such a cute pout. Wouldn’t be as tempting without your reactions.” and for some reason you wanted to smile at that, you shouldn’t, because it’d only encourage him, but you did. 

"I’ll give you a real kiss as long as you promise no peeking." Nodding vigorously and voicing your agreement, "yes anything, please…" playing with his suit lining just below the back of his neck you continued, “I just need to feel you-- taste you” His hands flexed against your waist, “You didn’t get a good enough taste earlier?” Letting out an embarrassed huff you mumbled down to his chest, “You know what I mean....that was good too though.”

"Nice to know you like the taste of my cum, not like I really expected anything different.” Again, you refused to meet the stare of his mask, not like you could deny it anyways. You’d shown him just how much you’d liked it earlier. 

“Ok, Cupcake. Close 'em then" so you did and lifted your face to his. You were half expecting him to pull something again. Maybe he had something up his sleeve, he was definitely capable of it. But you heard shuffling instead and felt a hand lift off your waist to comb his fingers through your hair until his palm came to rest just behind your ear. 

A second later you felt his close proximity, could feel the ghost of his breath against your lips. There was a stillness of anticipation that overtook the scene. You swore you never considered yourself an anxious person, but the tension was building and you could feel your pulse spike. The silence was deafening and the feel of his fingers in your hair and around your waist was so good. You could have stayed just like that, "You’re so fucking pretty."

You’d swear your heart had skipped a beat. He thought  _ you _ were pretty? That made your insides twist in satisfaction you wouldn’t easily admit. It was one thing to throw that around when you were fucking, but this was so far away from that. This didn’t feel like a purely physical thing like sex. This was something deeper, the way he was talking to you, how the atmosphere was so relaxed, how he was holding you-- touching you even, it was all so  _ intimate _ . 

And he just said things like that while you hadn’t even seen him once? Almost like he was rubbing it in. Everything about it was unfair, really. Especially with the  _ way _ he said it-- sounding so sincere. It had you losing focus quickly. Mixed up in all the emotions sweeping through you, not to mention the new arousal settling in with the butterflies still lighting your nerves. You were unprepared for the pathetic whining that made its way from your throat before you realized and extremely unprepared for the touch of soft lips against your own. 

With a gasp, you almost opened your eyes but caught yourself just before. You weren’t sure what you’d been expecting, but soft lips hadn’t been it. You were too stunned to respond back, your brain was still trying to process how his lips felt against yours. Soft and  _ so _ good, with a laziness that screamed intimate.

It took his lips leaving yours for you to come back to your senses. You’d tried to follow but the hand in your hair had stopped the movement. You weren’t disappointed for long as a gentle nudge of his nose along yours was followed by another press of his lips. Finally able to process the delicious feel of him against your lips you responded enthusiastically. __

No longer were your hands loosely hanging over his shoulders, but you fully reached up to wrap your arms around his neck. Responding to his kiss with a press of your own you felt his other hand reach down to rest on your hip. Angling your head you leaned more into the kiss as you felt his tongue tease your lips. You teased him right back until you felt the slide of his tongue against yours and  _ fuck _ that made your sex pulse. With a moan, you lightly bit his bottom lip as you pulled back. Exchanging more languid kisses the two of you kept catishly playing with each other. Running the tip of your tongue against his had a needy whine falling from you.

You could still taste yourself and the bourbon on his tongue, but beneath it was just  _ him _ . The mix was more intoxicating than the alcohol you’d had. 

In that lazy relaxed voice he whispered, “Lay back”. Your breathing increased and the butterflies that lingered were fully burned away by the familiar heat of arousal settling low in your abdomen. Keeping your eyes shut tight you did just that as you felt him shift positions. He moved in between your thighs as he dragged the hand that’d been on your hip down to your knee. Gripping it he lifted it to wrap over his hip, you got the hint and raised the other to match as he settled above you. 

Your arms still around his neck you could feel his breath against your lips again and in the next second, they were back on yours. Languidly dragging against yours had you moaning as you locked your legs around him-- pulling him into you. He felt so good against you like this and  _ fuck _ was he hard too. 

As his tongue baited yours out to play he ground his hips into you.  _ Shit _ , he must’ve taken your panties while you were out because you felt the grind of his leather on your bare pussy. You weren’t even mad though because you were making a mess against him again. Not like you could be mad even if you'd tried. Not when he was making you feel like  _ this _ .

Tightening your thighs as your sex pulsed you moaned into his kiss. His tongue slid up against yours and  **fuck** did it feel good. On his pulled back you sucked his bottom lip between yours only to swipe your tongue across the length of it before releasing. He groaned and moved down to lick a long stripe up your throat. 

Moaning you pushed your hips against him and turned your head to give him more access. He nibbled and sucked and licked until it was absolutely certain you’d have bruises littering your throat-- too bad they’d blend in with all your others, but you’d know. Licking up to nibble and kiss at your ear before he pulled away and sighed into your throat, “We're gonna have to cut this short, princess.” 

You tightened both arms and legs around him as you cried out in disappointment, “Can’t I just ignore it?” He placed a soft kiss against your pulse, “Don’t think the crab god listens to us like that.” you could feel what he meant. The spider that’d been crawling now felt like a snake circling and constricting around your brain. Your time here was up, you could feel it and you’d never  **hated** anything more than that. 

You hadn’t really felt it. The entity moving you, taking you, whatever it was. You were there and then you weren’t. There wasn’t even a sensation to go with it. And maybe that’s what was most annoying? 

You just felt Ghostface’s pressure disappear from atop you and that was it. No feeling of movement, re-orienting, nothing. Opening your eyes you were standing in an area that looked like some kind of junkyard. No Ghostface, no couch, no cozy fire. 

You stood there staring at the far off gas station, vision unfocusing because anger was surging inside you. Taking over like it was being pumped through your system instead of blood. The deep dark place inside you was closer to the surface than ever and the cold rage you felt made your jaw clench. You were turned on, wet, had _ no _ panties, and now no Ghostface.

So you were basically just cock blocked by an eldritch horror. Just your luck. Sure, you’d had two delicious orgasms, but what it’d pulled you away from was more than just a quick fuck.  _ Meant _ more than that, or that's how it’d felt to you. Maybe you were heart blocked by an eldritch horror? That sounded so dumb, delete that from your brain.

It was just as well that Claudette came over to lay a hand on your shoulder to knock you out of your destructive thoughts. Saying your name as she asked, “Hey, everything ok?” You came back to yourself and blinked a few times- trying to relax your jaw, you realized your nails were digging into your clenched palm- hadn’t even felt that happen. Trying to keep calm and not snap at her, you reminded yourself of going through the motions of putting your own “mask” on. 

Taking a deeper inhale than normal you made a mental effort to  _ relax  _ while you ran down your mental checklist of slipping back into normality. Always keep an open expression, look curious, keep your head up, keep your face relaxed, make eye contact, and above all keep a small smile on your face. Opening your eyes after the two seconds it took for your familiar facade to slide back into place you gave Claudette what you were aiming to be a thankful smile, “Yes, it was just really disorienting. One second I’m wandering the forest and then I have a massive headache and well, then here I am.”

She gave you a pitying look, “Ah, I understand. It can be strange at first.” She glanced to the side and then back to you, “Look there's a gen right there, let's go work on that and I’ll show you what we were explaining before.” You nodded and gave her another smile, “Sure thing.” 

The two of you silently made your way over to it without problems, “So...it feels like a headache to you?” Was that wrong? Did it not feel that way for them? Headache wasn’t even the right term really, but not like you’d say creepy crawlings making their home in your brains- so you just gave a non-committal hum waiting to see what she’d say, “That's kind of interesting. What I’ve heard is it can feel different, but usually it's just like a pull in our core.” of course yours was different- fit in with the rest of your life. Maybe because you'd willingly put yourself here it had more free reign? “Well, I wish it was just stomach ache, was a horrible pressure in my head. Really sucked.” She gave a small laugh, “I bet.” And then you’d tripped up and burned your finger- was only a matter of time before you did that though. 

The rest of that trial had gone pretty much the same. You were trying to sneak around to help with the gens, but  _ god _ were you terrible at them. Sparks would fly constantly- in your face, on your hand, you swore it almost even caught your hair on fire at one point. 

You hadn’t made it out of that trial intact. The killer being someone they’d called the trapper. The name was pretty apt because your ankles hadn’t had a good time. 

It seemed like that long break you’d gotten had been a kindness because you were sucked into trial after trial barely getting a few minutes in between to catch your breath. And you  _ still _ had no panties. Guess it wasn't going to magic those back to you. You'd made it a habit to hold your skirt down during chases.

You’d seen a variety of killers and your hands had gotten used to the sting of the machines, which you  _ had _ gotten slightly better at, but you honestly believed there wasn’t much anyone could do to help you in that aspect. Mechanical things had always hated you. 

It had to have been about 16 trials, at least. Sadly, Ghostface hadn’t been a single one of those. Unfortunately, Pyramid head had. A whopping total of about 7 trials with him. And something must have been wacky because he only seemed to go for you during those. It didn’t matter if someone ran in front of the two of you. He’d ignore them for you, every single time. 

You got away during the chase usually, he was slow after all, just had a long reach and if you ducked at the right time, he’d miss. The other survivors had said even if he was tunneling you, the fact you could distract him for a good amount of time was beneficial. Claimed they could finish a majority of the gens before he got his hands on you if he did at all. 

The thing that didn’t sit right with you was how he moried you every time. But it wasn’t like the other killers, no, he didn’t have to hook you, didn’t need to wait a certain amount of time. If he got you then that was it. A burning between your shoulder blades was the only odd sensation before you were mutilated.

He just gripped your hair, lifted you off the ground, stabbed through your burning shoulder blades, and then split you down the middle. Wasn’t a fun experience, but you kind of prefered how fast it was compared to the game of hook and release survivors played. 

So your trials carried on and it was honestly really exhausting. You just wanted to chill for a bit, relax, have a little fun even. Which is how you ended up walking around the church looking building saying fuck objectives or whatever they were, and just decided to explore. 

You didn’t even know who the killer was this time, but you really didn’t care. You just needed a distraction. These past matches you’d focused on just trying to learn and hadn’t really paid much attention to what was really in the environments. Figuring you could change that now, you looked around. The place was kind of interesting to be honest, the stained glass was really nice even if somewhat broken. You looked around the broken wood and there was a single intact pew, walking up to the second floor you saw the gen, but ignored it for the other side. It was like some kind of sermon area or something.

You'd admit the view from here was nice. But what caught your eye was a curtain or tapestry? You weren't sure what it was, but it hung from the ceiling or chandelier, but it was close enough to grasp. Has it always been there? You'd been in here before but couldn't recall. It wasn’t like the thick velvety material you expected. Instead, it was thinner, silkier, and it had immediately reminded you of silks used in aerial shows. It looked like it was even split like silks too. You could work with this, it’d be clunky, but you didn’t care. You’d have cut it yourself at this point.

Grasping it you pulled to see if it’d budge from its hangings. It hadn’t, it’d stayed solid under your ministrations. That was good enough for you, it was definitely unsafe and unsanctioned, but you needed the familiarity. Needed to relax and do something you enjoyed. Besides, you know, if you fell, well, you’d just wake up again for another round. 

So, that's how you found yourself pulling that section of material to you and doing some warm-up stretching and moves with it. If only there was music you could have closed your eyes and imagined like you were back in reality. Twisting and arching you were getting lost in the motions of what was a simple set you’d taken countless times. Making your way up, you went into some hanging positions, careful to keep your skirt down, but if you flashed anyone, lucky them. And finally, you reached the point of a release move. 

Setting up went smooth, the material was actually holding up, but just as you were going for the drop out of the corner of your eye you saw the clown standing next to the gen.

In an instant sound came rushing back to you. You must have been more zoned out than you’d realized because his hacking and coughing was clear from where you were. Your heartbeat kicked up into your ears, but your body still followed through the release and it was like some comical flipbook of seeing the clown move in disjointed images as you twirled down. First, he was swirling his anesthetic, then he was standing next to the drop in the window, and when you reached the bottom of the material and looked up, he was gone. He’d left you? That...was unexpected. You’d been in a trial earlier with him and he hadn't spared you.

Extracting yourself from the curtain thing you were curious about the clown, but also impressed the fabric had held up so well. You’d have to keep this place in mind for when you needed to let go. Maybe you could even find it from outside a trial. After that experience, you’d gone back to trying to help with generators. You’d only heard 2 go off, so 3 more were still needed. You’d tried your damnedest, but again, you weren’t that great with mechanics. 

Eventually, he’d caught you and as you were over his shoulder waiting for the hook he surprisingly spoke, “You a carnie, girl?” Technically, no, it was a circus, but you figured he didn’t need logistics. But who knew if that was a good thing. So, maybe you’d test the waters, “Kind of.”

He hacked a series of coughs, “What's kind of mean?” It was surprising he spoke at all, none of the other killers really talked. Legion, one of the guys, had called you a bitch once when you’d completely by accident slammed a locker into his face. You’d also kicked him in his jaw for that comment when he put you on a hook. And also muttered dickhead as he walked away. His pause said he'd definitely heard. You weren’t sorry for doing it. 

So you gave him a stretched truth, “I’m an aerialist for a company that encapsulates the carnival feel. We work the big top, but it’s not a traditional carnival, similar to a circus. So, yes and no.” 

You’d started to slip, so he shrugged you back up, “Reminded me of some old friends.” You weren’t sure how to read that. He hadn't said it in any particular way. So you waited. But he was already at a hook and he didn’t hesitate to toss you up onto it. 

He swirled his glass vial as he turned away, “You’re good. Was nice to see something from home.” and he was gone. Just like that. Nothing else. Even after you’d been saved and went back to the cat and mouse chase. You hadn’t questioned him and he made no more conversation, almost like you’d imagined it. It was just a strange interaction, but not alarming, so you just put it out of mind. 

All the other killers were standard- seemed like they were in it to win it, whatever  _ it _ was. So you tried to blend in and for the most part, you think you did. The survivors were friendly, even when you fucked up and burned yourself they hadn’t given you a hard time for it. But,  _ fuck _ , you wanted to see Ghostface. You couldn't have that seductive fucking post-orgasm makeout session and then just vanish for this fucking long. It was un-fucking-fair. And that cold rage had been simmering with each extended trial. 

You honestly weren’t sure what you’d do if you didn’t get another long break between trials to find him or have him as your killer. All you knew was whatever you  _ would _ do wouldn’t be good for your remaining time here if you wanted to stay on friendly terms. Something had to give, and it needed to give soon. 

Just like that, almost like the entity heard you-- knew how tightly wound you’d gotten, wanted you agitated, but wouldn’t let you slip over the edge because the next trial had a surprise.

You hadn’t seen the killer yet and that was just as well, you’d rather get this over with. Maybe you’d  _ finally _ get a break. You could only hope. At that thought, a shout rang out across the snowy terrain. It sounded close, but you weren’t deterred, just kept trying to focus on fixing the generator you were working on. They could run whoever it was around or get a hook and hang there while everyone got some work done. Just as you were thinking the clomps of the runner's feet were coming towards you. 

With an annoyed sigh, you stood to quickly hide behind a tree. You’d only shocked yourself once and a good portion of the generator was completed-- if you were lucky the killer wouldn’t notice you and you’d be able to slide back in and finish it off. 

Holding your breath you crouched behind a grouping of a few trees. It’d been Nea who was running, she was injured, holding her bloodied side. Sympathy wasn’t in you, the only thought you’d had was a biting, serves her right for bringing whoever over to you. She saw the active generator and changed her direction by leaping through a window and dripping a bloodied trail in her wake. You held your breath peeking out trying to see if there was a killer following or not. Maybe they’d spied someone else or noticed her turn in direction before they’d gotten close enough for you to see.

There wasn’t any sound. No footsteps, nothing, you didn’t hear any indicators that there was anyone following or making their way to the gen.  _ Thank god, _ you could get back to it and over with quicker. Turning to walk out you came face to chest with Ghostface leaning on the tree behind you, “Hi, cupcake.”

You didn’t scream, not even a yip, no instead, your muscles tightened in fright, and without thinking your fist reared back and aimed right up towards his face. He moved with the punch and gripped your wrist, so no damage was done, but you were shaken up. “Damn, you missed me that much?”

“Oh my  _ God _ , Ghostface! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” He pulled you into him by your wrist, pressing up against you, with his other hand placed on your lower back, “If I said yes would you be surprised?” You narrowed your eyes, “No, it’d be expected.”

Tilting his head, “Then don't ask obvious questions.” You huffed and tried to pull away, but his hand on your back pushed you into him, “Instead ask interesting ones like how’s life been without any panties?” You could literally hear how smug he was, there was absolutely no way he  _ wasn't _ smirking while asking that.

“Terrible. Give them back you jerk.” The hand on you back slid down to grip your ass over your skirt, “I don't know, I’ve been enjoying them while the entity's keeping you away from me.'' The blush that bloomed was instantly followed by the rush of excitement in your system. 

Fuck, that was hot, and without realizing it your mouth had already formed the words, “How...how’ve you been using them?” The hand let go of your skirt's material and slid down lower, reaching just under the hemline, but not going higher, “Oh, I think you know, Cupcake. They were pretty filthy to begin with. I’m just adding to it.” You suppressed the choked sob that wanted to claw its way from your throat and felt the heat coursing through you intensify.

“But I think I  _ will _ give them back. Seems like you've started a fan club.”  _ What? _ You weren’t sure what that was supposed to mean. And your face must have said the same, “Legion’s Frankie has a crush.” Your confused face turned to disgust which had a laugh escape him as his fingers grazed against the back of your upper thigh, “Heard you hit him a few times. Kicked him in the face? Called him names? Too bad he likes that. Said you were cute.” and when he said the last part you could hear the laugh in his voice like he really believed it was hilarious, but there was a dark edge around it. Just slightly biting.

It was still slightly confusing though, you’d think he would have been angry so you asked, “And you find that funny?” His fingers dipped up to finally grip your bare ass, “Of course I find that funny.  _ My _ Cupcakes already turning heads. They wish they’d get to feel this tight little ass.” and he flexed his hand gripping your ass, “Besides, that bastard can't even breathe without his girlfriend’s approval. And I’ve only seen Julie give that to Suzy.” 

Ok, you thought you could understand what he was getting at. He liked the idea that people wanted what was his, something they could look at, but ultimately, couldn’t have. You’d expected the typical jealousy, but...liking that you were getting attention? 

He couldn’t just be basic, could he? Had to have you on display without people realizing you were already untouchable. That...that made sense from what you’d seen. In a weird twisted way you were coming to see it fit him. He wanted people to see, to appreciate his things, but not touch. It made the dirty pictures make a lot of sense too. God you hoped he wasn’t posting your pussy shots anywhere though.

“Ok, then why give them back?” He pat your ass before answering, “No need to make it easy.” He’d been holding onto your wrist this entire time, but he finally released it and reached down to his back pocket. When he pulled his hand back in front of himself, there in his palm were your silky black panties balled up. You reached for them, but he quicked tutted at you and pulled his hand back. 

You went to ask why the hell he pulled them out if he wasn’t going to give them, when he dropped to his knees and unfurled them himself. Spreading them between his hands he looked up at you in silence that said  _ well, come on then _ .  _ Holy shit, _ he wanted to put them on you? That was hot, and again strangely intimate, but fuck it made your flush intensify. 

Stepping into them, he slid them up while his hands dragged against your legs until he stood as he pulled them up into place. And damn did he make sure they were pulled up snug.  _ Why were they….oh...Oh! _ They...They were  _ damp _ . They were fucking damp! Fuck he must have  _ used  _ them recently and  _ God  _ that was  **so** disgusting. Why did he even have them in his pocket? 

Ugh, but again, fuck, there really was something wrong with you because it didn’t make you disgusted. No, rather the perverseness in you was purring while your pulse picked up, your mouth ran dry, and excitement rushed through your system. It was dirty. And yet, it was fucking perfect. 

The face you were making must have been something because he cooed at you, “So cute.” He brought a hand underneath your skirt and pushed a finger between your folds through the panties. Pushing them into you, “Feel good with my cum on your pussy?” The whimper that left you was sad, pathetic, and so  _ needy _ \- he pressed his finger into your clit and your body jolted with the sensation, “Here's how we're going to play this, Sugarplum.”  _ That nickname, again. _ He had your rapt attention with the way his fingers were working slow circles into your clit, “You’re gonna get these panties nice and dirty again while you follow Daddy to watch something you’ll enjoy.”

God, you  _ swore _ you weren’t into that. You would have bet money on it, but the hot feeling unfurling down your spine and the flutter in your lower stomach said otherwise. Him calling himself that, it just,  _ fuck _ , it felt good. It was a bet you could say you’d happily lose. He was looking down at you, “Well?” you gave a nod, “Sounds good.”

He gave your clothed pussy a light spank before pulling away and you clenched with a sharp inhale.  _ Oh _ that felt nice. “Stay out of sight of your little survivor friends. Don't need them asking questions so early.” You hadn’t had any plans of being visible anyways, so that suited you just fine. 

The two of you crept off, you crouched and tried to stay out of sight. You’d watched as he found two of your teammates working on a gen. Doing his stalking thing, you were impressed with how silently he could approach. You hid in a locker with a clear visual of the gen they were working on before he moved towards them- you’d made sure he’d seen you go in. He downed Feng in one hit. When he hadn’t hooked her you assumed it was just to go after Nea who’d ran off. Sometimes the killers got in the mood to just let people bleed out too. 

Maybe that’s what he’d wanted you to watch. See her bleed out. Either way, watching him work was really doing it for you. His movements were so controlled, precise. He was quiet and would barely peek around things before he’d strike like a viper and down your teammate. It was beautiful to see. Nicely adding to the mess in your panties. 

When he dragged Nea back over by her ankle he dropped her next to Feng, realization dawned on you. He had a mori. He had a fucking mori and he wanted you to  _ watch _ . The arousal that sent though your system should have left you feeling gross, but all it did was leave you hot and heaving as your heart raced in anticipation. Your hands desperately rested on the doors of the locker as you peered through the small slits, gaze zeroing in on him standing between the two survivors. You contemplated leaning out to get a better view, let him see you waiting,  _ wanting _ . But stayed where you were, who knew where Dwight was.

And the next thing you knew he was sitting on Nea’s back and that shot a green spike of jealousy through your system. You didn’t like that position. At all. But then he was raising his knife and it glinted in the light so prettily that your blood was singing for action. That place inside you that resonated with him was surging up, caressing you, and coating your senses in ecstasy. 

Then he plunged the blade into her and you heard yourself let out a quiet moan. The scream she’d let out had been sweet, the way she struggled, and the coating on the knife when he pulled it out to stab into her side sent another pulsing shiver through you. And when he pulled it out  _ again _ and plunged it into her back only to  _ twist _ ?  _ Shit, _ that had you feel yourself getting soaked. Of course he took a picture, that was  _ so _ him. You were still feeling your sex flutter as the blood dripped down her front while life left her. 

_ Fuck, _ it made you want to be the one doing. Want to feel it. See what it was like to actually follow through. To feel the blade push in and how they convulsed. He was already on Feng when you came back to focus. 

Plunging and pulling the blade in the same fashion as he did to Nea, the sight had your thighs clenching together and your breath coming in little huffs. It was so captivating to watch. See what you could have been. What you could have done. And if you were honest- what you still  _ wanted _ to be.

It was so fucking sexy to watch how efficiently he’d done it too. So practiced, wasn't even a challenge. He was standing, taking photos of the scene. And your breath hitched when he turned towards you. Leather bloody, a few specks on his mask, hands coated here and there, putting his camera to reach down and pull his bloody knife from Feng’s back you felt your nipples ache and your pussy clench. God, you felt so empty. You wanted more than anything to feel  _ full _ . You wanted to rush out, get on your knees and beg him to do anything,  _ anything _ he wanted to you….but Dwight was still alive and that thought had your hand balling into a fist for the inconvenience. You couldn't chance him seeing. 

It looked like it wouldn’t matter though because Ghostface was definitely coming to your locker. But this way, if Dwight was watching he’d assume you’d just hid. And when a mori was in play, with no gens finished, hiding became the smarter choice- wait for the hatch. God you hoped Dwight was playing for himself this trial and just hiding in the corner of the map somewhere nowhere near here because you weren’t sure you could hold in the moans that wanted to spill out. 

When Ghostface threw your locker open he brought his bloody knife up and slammed it into the wall next to your head. And instead of pulling you out like you’d assumed he gripped your collar, twisted you around so he could fit in too, pushed your cheek into the wall while he pushed against your back and clocked the doors behind him.

The only light was from the small slits in the locker's front and they offered no help as he was blocking them. Bathed in darkness sensations seemed more intense. You could feel the huff of your breath against the locker, smell the tang of the blood on him, feel how  _ hard  _ he was against you. There was silence as he ground his hips into you and gripped a fist full of your hair. 

“Did you enjoy the show?” You pushed your ass back against him and moaned, “It was so fucking hot.” Whining as he pushed against you hard, “Knew you’d like it you dirty slut.” His other hand wandered down to grip your hip, “Did you do what I asked? Get those panties nice and wet for me?”

You gave a nod with difficulty, “Soaked”. He ground into your ass and whispered in your ear, “Just the way I fucking like you.” your pussy clenched again and you ground against him with a whimper. He purred at you as his hand caressed your hip, “Aw, what's wrong, Cupcake? Want something?” You wanted something alright. 

The haze of arousal had you keyed up before he’d even come in here. Having him pressed against your back, fist pulling so deliciously at your hair, and his hand slowly reaching around to find its way under your skirt? You were so fucking wound up- ready to snap. 

You wanted to feel something in you, feel something stretching you open  _ finally _ . His fingers  _ could _ work, but you wanted something thicker. Wanted his cock stretching your hole after he’d just murdered two people in front of you- two people you knew and were supposed to be working with.  _ Fuck _ , that thought sent a fresh wave of perverse pleasure though you. 

“Come on, use your words. Gotta ask for what you want, remember?” His fingers had dipped under your panties to play with your aching clit. Squeezing your eyes shut as you pushed into his hand- you finally broke, “  _ Fuck _ ! I want you in me. Please, can you put your cock in me? Please? Just for a little bit?  _ God, _ I  _ need _ it!” and you sounded so desperate- so needy, you really did sound like you’d cry if he refused. 

“Just a little cock slut that needs to be filled?” His back was pressed up against yours, “I’ll fix that for you, Cupcake.” There wasn’t much room for movement, but you felt him pull his hand out from your skirt and felt the shuffling, heard the jingle of a belt. And then the back of your skirt was being lifted and he didn’t even bother to pull your disgusting panties down, just pushed them to the side before he slid the tip of his cock against your wet opening. “Is this what you wanted?” The fist in your hair pushed your cheek harder into the wall, “A thick cock to fuck your pretty little cunt?” 

The whine you let out was desperate, “Y-yours...wanted  _ your _ hard cock.” You heard him hiss on his inhale, “That's fucking right, babe.  **Mine** .” He slowly pushed inside as the last word fell from his lips. And the stretch made your eyes roll to the back of your skull.  _ God _ the stretch was so fucking  _ good. _ When he finally slid all the way to the base you felt your walls flutter around him. He was so fucking deep and fit so damn good inside you. 

He ground against your ass before pulling out and slamming roughly back in. He kept that up for a few more thrusts, nothing fast, but so fucking hard and deep. You were pushing your hips to meet his thrusts while not even trying to cover your moans. He leaned in while pulling your head back as he continued the rhythm, “Feel so good around me, princess.” Your rapid breathing caught when his other hand made its way under your skirt to pinch at your clit, “ I wanna play a nasty little game with you. You down?” 

You hadn’t completely processed his words with his hand on your clit and his cock still dragging deliciously against your walls, so you gave an absentminded nod of  _ yes,  _ you'd give him whatever he wanted as long as he kept fucking you. After a second you registered his question, but it was already too late. He wasn’t going to let you take that back even if you said it was his cock’s fault. 

Bastard probably knew you wouldn’t pay attention with his fingers working you. Who could blame you though? Between the burning feeling of a building orgasm, the sounds of how obscenely wet you were paired with flesh slapping all covered by your moans was kind of distracting. If Dwight was in a 10 meter radius there was no mistaking what was happening. That thought had a fresh wave of heat run down your spine. The twisted side of you kind of hoped he heard.

Ghostface’s chuckle brought you back as he increased his speed of both his fingers and thrusts, “I’m gonna cum in this tight pussy,” Yes, fuck yes, the heat that settled in you had your walls tightening around him while letting out a moan of want. He slammed into you hard with a groan, “You fucking like that, huh? Just a little filthy cumslut, I’ll give you what you need, fill you up nice.” You were getting so fucking close, you could feel your muscles tightening, craving the finish, “ But there's more, so listen” You tried to keep a clear head, but his thrusts and fingers were making it difficult, “ Once I cum in your dirty cunt you're going to take your panties off and the game is you’re going to walk around trying to keep my cum inside while I hunt your last teammate down. If my cum isn’t running down your thighs and he gets the gens, I’ll let you go.” you breath caught in your chest. He wanted to play  _ that _ . 

What if Dwight saw it running down your thighs? If you knelt down to do a gen you were sure there’d be globs of it running out of you...But damn if the fire in your veins hadn’t kicked up when he said it, “But here's the catch, you don't get to cum.”  _ What?! _ Your back straightened and you made a screeching sound before, “What?!” And then his fingers rubbing circles stopped and instead split your lips apart holding them off from giving even the barest stimulation. 

You sobbed out a cry of frustration, “Ghostface!” That just made him slam in harder, “That's right, cupcake. Cry my fucking name.” With no stimulation to your clit, you could feel the orgasm you’d been on the edge of slowly ebbe away. Desperately with tears clear in your voice, “Please, please, Ghostface, please don't do this. Please! Please let me cum, I’ll do anything! Please, God, I need it. Please!” He hit so deep and swirled his hips, “You sound so fucking good when you're crying like a needy little whore. Keep going, daddy’s almost there.” You clenched at his words, it still felt fucking good, but you couldn’t cum without attention on your clit, “ _ Fuck, please! Please, Ghostface” _ you were sobbing with each thrust, you felt robbed, that would have been such a good fucking orgasm too! “ _ Please  _ let me cum!  _ Please! _ ” He just slammed as deep as he could into and let out a dark groan as you felt the flood of his cum release inside you. It only made you cry harder because it felt so fucking  _ good _ . 

He ground his hips into you as he cooed at your sobs, “Shh, you did so good, princess. Took it all so well.” You felt yourself clench around him and you were so fucking angry, but damn it, the stretch was still pleasant. You didn’t respond to him so his hand in your hair started to massage your scalp, “Don't be mad, I’ll let you cum if you play nice.” Getting your breathing under control you couldn’t decide if you wanted to hit him or do as he said more. 

“I’m gonna pull out, better be ready to keep it inside.”  _ Shit _ , did he have to say it so off the cuff like that? Like he hadn’t just told you to keep his cum inside your pussy. But then you felt him pull out and the drag had your arousal rolling again. You hadn’t moved your cheek off the wall, just stayed there trying to pull yourself together. He pushed off you and after a second opened the doors reminding you that the two of you had done all of that in a fucking  _ locker _ . 

Reminded you that Dwight might have heard Ghostface wrecking you. The thought didn’t help you control yourself. You heard the clicks of the camera and weren’t surprised he was taking pictures of the aftermath. You were sure your skirt was still pulled up in the back, you could feel your panties still pushed to one side of your pussy, and your hair and face were definitely a mess, “Here, cupcake. Let me help you.” and he was knelt behind you sliding your panties back off you. 

He didn’t stand up immediately, instead, he gripped a cheek of your ass and spread you open, “Push your hips back towards me. I want a picture of your sloppy hole fucked open.” you did as asked and pushed back into his hand-- his thumb reached down and was pulling your used pussy open even more, you’d tried to keep his cum in, but at that, you could feel a string of it dribble out of you, “There we are. My cumslut’s messy fuckhole out in the open.” he released you once he got the shot and stood. Smoothing down your skirt before he moved to your hair-- and you let him, he could fix you up some. 

If he wasn’t going to let you cum it was the least he could do. “Alright, cupcake. You good?” Taking a deep inhale you pushed off the wall finally and turned to him, “No thanks to you, but yeah. I’m ready.” He snickered, “Don’t be like that” rubbed his hand against the front of your lower abdomen, “I could feel how much you like having my cum in here, so don't act like a bitch because I didn’t let you finish.” You huffed and moved away from his hand, didn’t need any added pressure making it slip from you, “Ok, ok. Fine. You’re right...it felt good.” He backed up, “Of course I am.” 

And with that, the game was on. You were trying, but damn some was still slipping out. Nothing obscenely noticeable, not  _ yet _ anyway. Dwight had gotten one generator fixed, but that was the only one, so it was really just a waiting game until he found him. It’d felt like it’d been a good 40 minutes to an hour since the locker. You weren’t sure if Ghostface was just playing around or if Dwight was really giving him the slip. Probably playing, making you walk around like this longer. 

You were slow-moving, definitely couldn’t run, so you were making your way into the lodge area to maybe try to look productive. Just as you were walking through the door you heard Dwight let out a scream. It sounded like he’d maybe gotten downed, and as you turned the corner you saw he had. Downed right across from Nea and Feng's dead bodies.

Ghostface was standing above him, looking around the area. When he’d seen you he raised a hand and made a  _ come here _ motion with his fingers. There was no resistance in you as you wandered over to him. Dwight was facing away from you, and you were sure there was no way he’d seen you. Ghostface dropped on his prey quickly and plunged the knife in deep to his back. The scream Dwight let out had your pulse pick up and you could feel some of Ghostface’s cum slip out of you. Ripping the knife out he stabbed into Dwight's side and twisted it some. 

The urge from before was setting in. The itch to be the one that was plunging the blade in him. The dark want making your hand twitch as you watched on. Pleasure surging down your spine to your clit like a live wire. You expected the last knife stab like he’d done to Nea and Feng, but were surprised when it didn’t come. Instead, he turned to you and did that same  _ come here _ motion. So you did, as silently as possible, but it probably didn’t matter. Dwight didn’t seem like there was really much life left in him. 

When you were within arms reach Ghostface gripped your hips and directed you to sit on Dwight’s back in front of him. Pulling you close so your hips fit snug back against his he whispered in your ear, “Go on.” You had to hold in the groan that wanted to bubble up and instead gripped the handle of the knife before you roughly pulled it out. There was a gurgle from Dwight, but nothing more. 

Your breathing picked up as you could feel the anticipation surge through you mixing in with the hot flush running already running rampant.  _ Finally!  _ You were finally getting to do this _. _ Gripping the blade tightly you raised it high and then drove it into Dwight. There was a slight moan and gurgle- he sounded so far gone you didn’t think he’d even remember this. But you would. You’d  _ never  _ forget this. Twisting the blade, blood seeped from the wound. The feeling of being the one that caused it had you pushing your hips back into Ghostface. 

He reached around gripped the bottom of your shirt and pulled it up to your mouth, “Open” You got what he wanted and bit your shirt holding it up so your bra covered tits were on display. He reached down again and pulled the bottom of your skirt up. Leaving your bare cum dripping pussy visible and just as you guessed, he raised his camera with the other hand and took a picture. “Now grip his hair and pull his face up”. You did the same motions you’d witnessed him do to Nea and Feng for him to grind his hips into yours as he took another picture. You were sure your eyes were rolled to the back of your head in the photo.

When he dropped his arm, you dropped Dwight's head with zero concern as you pushed back into the hard on you felt against your ass. “How’d that feel?” Did he even need to ask? releasing your shirt you answered with, “Amazing.” he made a hum of approval and then dipped the hand that’d been holding your skirt down to play with your dripping pussy. 

From the moment he’d sent you on top of Dwight his cum was slowly leaking from you. His fingers were swirling through it and your folds now. “What a messy girl. Look at you dripping my cum all over this poor man's back.” you rolled your hips into his hand as you leaned your head against his shoulder, “Sluttiest dirty pussy there is here. Bet you fucking like this even more after finishing him off.” you moaned near his ear, “Yes, god I like it so fucking much.” His fingers were alternating between dipping into your core and swirling on your clit, “ _ Please _ Ghostface  _ Please _ let me cum? I  _ need _ it so bad. Please! Need you to give it to me.” 

His fingers swirled harder against you, “Well when you're a little sweet talker aren't you.” and he was pulling you off of Dwight, turning you on your back as he hovered above you, “Just had my cock an hour ago, already want it again?” Your rapid nodding had him dragging his hand down a cheek only to grip your face tightly, “You’re that fucking desperate for it? Still have my cum in you and you already want more?” you made a sad sound and nodded again. 

Using his grip he turned your face to look at the cum pooled on Dwight and the trail that led over to you, “You’re so fucking filthy.” and the visual mixed with his words had you walls clenching in want. “I fucking love it.” Hot arousal seared down your spine as he gripped your hip, “You were so sexy stabbing into him, Cupcake.” he released your face to undo his pants, “Wanna watch you do it all by yourself next time.”  _ Shit _ , you wanted that too. Wanted him to watch you do that and then fuck you like he was about to do now. 

You pulled your knees up and spread your legs open for him, and the sound he made told you he liked that, “Love your tight little pussy covered in my cum.” He finally had his cock out and leaned forward to slap it against you as he snickered, “Listen to how nasty wet you are.” You groaned while your hips writhed with the sensation. It was so hot, and felt so good, and fuck you wanted it in you so bad. You needed it back in you after everything. Needed to cum like your life depended on it. You’d give him  _ anything _ for it. 

Slapping against you one last time before he lined himself up, “You gonna take my cock like a desperate little slut for me?” and you were nodding before he finished, whining out pathetically that  _ Yes,  _ you’d do  _ anything _ for him. As he was sliding in that dark place in your mind was whispering the most depraved thing. But you wanted it, couldn’t deny what your mind was asking for, so as his hips met yours and you all but begged for that dark want, “Mori me.” 

You felt his cock twitch against your walls. “What was that, Cupcake?” You felt so  _ good _ . So stretched, so full, but you needed  _ more. _ Wanted to have his blade in you when you came- wanted the pain mixed in with the pleasure. Swiveling your hips against his for friction you arch your back and tightened around him, “Mori me, Ghostface! Please! Make me cum while you mori me! It's what I  _ need _ ! Please!” 

He stared down at you for a second before he growled and reached over to Dwight's body to rip his knife from his back only to bring the blade to your neck, “You want my knife in you as I fuck your tight little cunt?” The blade felt warm against your throat from the blood, sharp- dangerous. Everything you wanted. Your legs wrapped around his hips and pulled him deeper into you, “Yes! Fuck yes! I need it in me, please Ghostface!” You tried moving your hips against his, but he’d moved to pin yours down, “Danny.” 

Your breath caught as that pierced through the haze in your mind. With your chest heaving, you stared up at his mask and asked like you’d misheard him, “What?” Was that what you thought it was? And then he pulled out and pushed back in while pressing the knife tighter against your throat, “When we're alone and my cocks in you,” and he reached up with his other hand and pulled his mask off, “Fucking call me, Danny.” 

The look on your face must have been priceless, the clench in your pussy certainly was if the deep groan he let out was anything to go by. But  _ Fuck _ was he handsome. The prettiest eyes and softest looking black hair. Fuck you swore your heart was going to burst by itself if he didn’t put his blade in it.  _ Lucky _ you were so fucking  _ lucky _ was all you could think. A man that looked like  _ him _ was fucking into  _ you. _ He pulled out and pushed back in, quick, rough, and hard as he leaned down to capture your lips in a kiss.

Nipping at your bottom lip before fully pressing his against yours had you gasping. He used that to flick this tongue against yours before you responded. Once the two of you finally broke apart, he spoke in a strained voice as his thrusts were hitting that special area inside you, “I’ll give you your own special mori, babe.” and he pulled the knife from your throat to press the tip against your chest. You moaned his name as the knife slid in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He's disgusting, isn't he?


End file.
